Doctor's Orders
by mybluesky
Summary: Nurse Swan vows to never date a doctor, presuming them all to be egotistical jerks. But will she change her mind when she starts a new job and meets the handsome Dr. Cullen, or will his advances only strengthen her resolve? AH, OOC, Rated M
1. Prologue

**Summary: Nurse Swan vows to never date a doctor, presuming them all to be egotistical jerks. But will she change her mind when she starts a new job and meets the handsome Dr. Cullen, or will his advances only strengthen her resolve?**

**A/N: This is the prologue of my newest endeavor. It's short, but that's because it's the prologue...other chapters will be longer, probably around the same length as the last story. And it's not a snippet of a future chapter, it's just a quick introduction.**

**Hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight.**

-x-x-x-x-

**Prologue – Never Date a Doctor**

"Bella Swan? You mean _Swan_ like the bird?"

Emmett McCarty eyes me dubiously from where he sits in the nurse's station before finally rising to shake my hand. He's a monster of a man, well over six-feet tall with broad arms and shoulders that strain against the sleeves of his scrubs. But his face is boyish, accented by two deep dimples on either side of his persistent smile.

"Well, I'm your Lord and Savior, for all intents and purposes," he introduces himself. "Emmett McCarty. I'll be conditioning you so that you can survive this hell hole on your own in a few weeks."

He's joking, I'm sure, but it's hard to find the humor when the place actually _does_ resemble a hell hole. There's a flock of doctors and nurses and secretaries and transporters everywhere, all assembling together at the prime time that is shift-change. There's nowhere to sit and it's almost impossible to hear anything amidst all the bustle of chatter and activity.

"Um, that's great," I say nervously. There's something about starting a new job – about meeting an influx of new people – that scares the shit out of me. My hands are even a little clammy. I'm really starting to think I might be socially retarded or something.

"Follow me," he says easily. "I'll give you a tour of the floor real quick."

I have to walk briskly to keep up, and pretty soon I've had the tour and have been introduced to several new coworkers. Emmett keeps up a running commentary as we walk, listing off who to avoid and where to sneak for a break and which corners have the best cellphone reception. It's truthfully the best tour I've ever been given.

"That's Aro." He pauses and points out a very feminine male nurse but doesn't bother introducing me to him. "Well call him Little Johnny, but he doesn't know why." And he doesn't tell _me_ why, either. And I hope...no, I _pray_ that it has nothing to do with his nether regions.

"Why do you call him that?"

"I dunno, he's just short and looks like Elton John. _Little Johnny_."

I stifle my laughter behind my hand. It's actually very fitting, and the fact that it hasn't escaped _anyone's _notice is borderline hilarious. "You know, I thought the same damn thing!"

"Yeah, everyone does," he assures. "And Alice is Little Bit, for obvious reasons. Well, not that Aro's name wasn't obvious."

Alice is a petite nurse with short, spiky, black hair and a contagious smile. We've already been introduced; she flocked towards me when I first walked in, making sure we were acquainted right away. She has an easiness about her that's likeable, and according to Emmett's list, she's approved for me to hang out with.

Emmett suddenly eyes me. "We need to figure out a name for you," he announces.

"Oh, no," I refuse. I try to be polite, but the last thing I need is some mortifying nickname following me around after only my first day. "Bella's just fine."

"You'll like it, I promise." He claps me on the back. It kind of hurts, and I rub my shoulder with a grimace.

"I like my name," I grumble.

"It doesn't matter if you _like_ your name, Bella. That's not the point." He rubs his chin thoughtfully before pulling me along. "I'll think on it a while," he concludes.

_Great_.

I continue following him around as we assess our patients. Today, I'm just shadowing him; tomorrow, I'll take the whole team while he sits around and lets me do all the work, also known as "I'm-a-fucking-lazy-ass-and-this-is-why-I-like-to-orient-people." It's true, especially for people like Emmett, and for them to claim otherwise is just a carefully crafted lie.

We're passing by the med room when I see Emmett tense. A tall, blonde, absolutely gorgeous doctor passes us. She's wearing a white embroidered lab coat – though everything happens so quickly that I can't make out the writing – and a stethoscope adorns her long, graceful neck. She's elegant in a pair of slacks and heels.

As she passes us, her eyes meet Emmett's. Both gazes ooze with hostility.

"Emmett." Her voice is clipped as she nods and passes him, her gaze little more than a stony glare. Emmett bristles at her tone, his entire body tensing from the strain of keeping his ridiculously large mouth shut. Oh yeah, he's definitely holding back a choice word or two.

He doesn't relax until she's out of sight. Then he turns to me. "_That_," he says with a burst of irritation, "is the most self-absorbed excuse for a doctor you'll meet here. I wouldn't even bother learning her name."

But now I'm madly curious, of course.

"Why? What did she do?" I ask eagerly. I'm a sucker for some good hospital gossip.

"She's a pretentious bitch," he says harshly. "Thinks she's God simply because of her title. Pfftt. I'd like to show her a thing or two about finding Jesus."

From the look in his eyes, I don't reckon he means attending church.

"Well, what's her name?" I persist. "I might have to call her or something."

"If you _must _know, it's Dr. fucking Hale," he says, and for a moment I think he's being funny and that he's referring to her as Satan or something.

"Dr. Hell?"

"Yes. It's very fitting, actually."

I actually know a thing or two about asshole doctors, seeing as how I've worked with them for years. It's the same scenario every time – a doctor occasionally starts out his career as a nice, modest man, then he saves a few lives, gets a few paychecks, and suddenly he thinks he's the big shit around campus – err, the hospital. And sometimes he is, but usually he isn't. And usually it's annoying. And insulting. Especially, _especially_, when they think they're better than the nurses – that our jobs are less important – that we're not spending twelve hours a day busting our asses to save lives, as well.

What's even more annoying is when they think they're sexy but they actually aren't. And if they _are_ mildly cute, then God forbid, there won't be any space left over after they cram their enormous egos inside the room.

I vowed a long time ago to never date a doctor. The prospect is only good in theory – in the real world, they're cocky, they're rude, and they're usually unattractive.

But that was before I got a job at Harborview Medical Center, to be trained by a Nurse Emmett McCarty, to be introduced to a slightly arrogant and still amazingly fuck-hot Dr. Edward Cullen.

This is my little doomsday of sorts, otherwise known as the day my world stopped making sense.

-x-x-x-x-

**A/N: Some _story _notes. Feel free to skip if I bore you.**

**First of all, I've seen a lot of fics where Edward is a doc, but the nurses are always portrayed by skanks like Tanya or Lauren who just want to fuck him for his money. Being a nurse myself, I thought this would put a refreshing spin on the idea. Hope you agree ;-)**

**Second, I don't hate doctors. So if you're a doctor or married to one or want to marry one...whatever...I mean no offense. However, I work around them all day long and they make a lot of money and hold a lot of power and they work super long hours and sometimes miss lunch, which can make even the best of us cranky _(especially_ men, omg)_,_ but combine that with the occassional power trip and you've got a royal pain in the ass. It took one day of being yelled at by three different doctors over shit that wasn't my fault before I decided I'd never, ever want to date one of the cocky bastards. Then came a new doctor who was really hot and super nice (and wore a wedding ring, boo) and lo and behold, there came the idea for this fic.**

**This story will probably be pretty light - I certainly don't plan for any rip-your-heart-out angst with every chapter. I just want to have fun with it, like the last one. And I'm not sure how long it will be. Also, right now I'm thinking it's all going to be BPOV. I know, boo. But I love you guys so much that I'll probably write up a lot of EPOV outtakes and send them as review replies.**

**Passionmama preread and helped with the plot and such. I'd be useless without her.**

**This will update more often once A Betting Man is complete. I'm nervous and excited over starting a new fic, so I'd love love _love_ to hear what you think. Any interest? Yes? No?**

**I'm mybluesky1 on twitter - feel free to come play! I post teasahs!**

**xoxo**


	2. Chapter One

***waves to all my fellow nurses, nursing students, RT's, unit clerks, vasc ultrasound techs, and family of docs* Every review I got from you guys saying "I know exactly what you mean..." made me smile real, real big. And I see no one admitted to being a doctor...? Hmmm...doctor's are loved here, too. Nurse Swan shall tell you all about it later *wink wink***

**The Prologue wasn't beta'd so all errors were my own. I really just wanted to get a feel of what everyone thought about the storyline. But this chapter was beta'd by the wonderful ms-ambrosia, who's sticking with me for another round of fuckery. And passionmama preread and encouraged me to begin posting this story, so big thanks to her as well.**

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

-x-x-x-x-

**Chapter 1 – Paging Dr. Dick**

It started with a phone call. Or, to be more precise, a multitude of phone calls.

Alec and I had been dating for nearly two years when I received the first call. It was nothing more than a round of creepy, heavy breathing that was interrupted abruptly once the caller hung up the phone. I would have called them back, but the number was blocked.

The second call was much the same.

The third call was more interesting, partly because I discovered the caller was a man, but mainly because he was very, very angry man. And I was alone and caught off guard. And after all this time of suspecting it was some secret floozy Alec was screwing, it turned out to be the secret floozy's jackass husband.

"Who is this?" he'd demanded angrily. "And why the fuck does my wife keep calling you?"

I bristled at his comment, refusing to give in first. "Hey, asswipe, you called me. Who is _this_?"

"Is this a fucking woman?"

"Who wants to know?"

"Who else is with you?"

"I'm not answering until you tell me who this is."

"_Goddamn it_!"

He hung up, only to call back an hour later once he'd calmed down. I nearly didn't answer, but of course I had my own suspicions and was ready to get it all out in the air. So I picked up the phone, internally preparing myself for another shouting match with this stranger, only to hear him apologize.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice agonized. "But I think my wife is cheating on me. I know that's terrible. But this number is all over our phone bill. Does anyone else live with you?"

Someone else did live with me – Alec, my boyfriend, my lover. The man of the house while I was away at work twelve – sometimes fourteen – hours a day.

I still defended Alec to this man, unwilling to admit to a stranger that I'd been so blind-sighted by another. In truth, we had so much in common that we probably could have been best friends. When I confronted Alec, throwing false information and accusations at him, he buckled beneath the pressure. He caved and admitted to having screwed the floozy for nearly six months.

I'd never felt so foolish.

I'd also never been so helpless, suddenly out on my ass with no place to go. The house belonged to him, as did most everything inside of it. I was forced to stay with a friend for a month while I hunted for an apartment and eventually began searching among other hospitals in the area, in the state, and finally those hospitals hundreds of miles away.

I was drawn to my home state of Washington, and a talk with my father sealed the deal. He'd be thrilled to have me closer. This way, I could even come over for holidays, something I shamefully hadn't done in years.

I began applying at hospitals in Seattle the next day. As soon as I got an interview, I flew home to stay with my father, Charlie, who lived in a small town about three hours away. He helped me find an apartment and Harborview Medical Center offered me a job on a medical unit.

This led me to here – standing in the middle of the hallway, pockets protruding with IV supplies, tubing, gauze and tape, my arms overflowing from the four cups of pills and the clipboard I'm desperately clinging onto. I'm wearing a jacket, a garment that has Emmett thrilled due to the extra pocket space.

"I'd get one of these if they didn't look so fucking girly," he says, admiring the depth and width of the extra pockets it offers. His voice is wistful. "Girls are so lucky."

"Hardly," I grumble.

"Come on, Pockets. Let's go start this IV."

And this is how I gain my new nickname.

We head out, accomplishing our mission, but when Aro asks me if I want to start an IV for _him_ – as practice - Emmett pitches a royal bitch fit.

"_Dude_! She's been a nurse for three years-"

"Four years," I correct him.

"Four years," he says. "She knows how to start an IV. So don't think for one second you're going to con her into doing all your work."

"I was just asking her, dick," Aro says snottily, and he shoots Emmett a bird before he flounces away. Emmett glares at his retreating form while I stifle my laughter behind my hand.

-x-x-x-x-

We go downstairs for lunch.

"Never eat in the break room," Emmett says. "Those assholes won't leave you alone for two seconds. It's impossible to get a moment of peace." He fishes the little gray cordless phone from his pocket and waves it at me. "And always make sure you turn this off." It chirps musically as he powers it down.

"Turn off the phone...got it."

"Now, you have to be very particular about what you eat here. Not everything is edible." We wander over to the hot food bar where a very poignant lunch-lady is waiting with arms crossed, a bored frown on her face. I doubt she ever smiles.

"All they ever serve on the hot-bar is goddamn chicken," Emmett says, loud enough for the lunch-lady and everyone around us to hear, but she doesn't flinch. He guides me away. "Fried chicken, baked chicken, grilled chicken. Working here will turn you into a goddamn chicken, I swear to God." We stop in front of the grill, which has a display of wrapped hamburgers and hotdogs. "The grill is sometimes decent. Of course, you can always hit up the salad bar if you're into that shit."

"Alright," I say. This is not unlike the last place I worked. I get a cheeseburger.

"And don't eat the fries unless you see them pull them from the grease," he warns.

We get our food, pay, and sit down. I'm suddenly struck with a thought.

"You know, you're actually a pretty great preceptor," I say seriously. To another, this may sound absurd, but no one else has ever bothered telling me about the food or break areas or given me a decently reliable rundown of who to avoid. And this is valuable information.

"Of course I am," he says cockily. "You just now figuring that out?"

"Also, the last person who oriented me acted like I got in her way. But _you_ stand back and let me do everything. If anything, _you_ get in _my_ way."

Emmett looks confused as he squeezes an unhealthy amount of mayo onto his bun. He slathers it on with a plastic knife. "You got in their way? Hell, orientees do all your work! How could anyone _not_ jump on that shit?"

_I knew it_.

"So you've told me who to avoid. Who's safe?"

He shoves a hot, still greasy fry into his mouth. "Alice is pretty cool," he says. "Too fucking happy that early in the morning, but still cool. We hang out outside of work sometimes. Jasper too."

I quirk an eyebrow. "Who's Jasper?"

"He's a pharmacist – one of the only decent ones. Most the other ones are annoying as hell. And Alice is in love with him. She won't admit it, but she's the only one running to pharmacy fifty times a day for stupid shit like laxatives."

"That's sweet," I comment. Emmett eyes me shrewdly.

"Right," he says dryly. "Romance over laxatives. I can see a movie in the works already."

"You know what I mean."

He shrugs. "Oh, there's Angela, too. She's nice – really quiet, though. Kind of sensitive. But she won't ever piss you off, which is a good thing."

I nod in agreement.

"Eric works in transport. He's pretty cool. He hangs out with us sometimes, too."

"What do you guys do?"

"Drinks after work. Madden marathons – you know. Different stuff."

I quirk an eyebrow. "Madden marathons?"

"Yeah. Xbox. Football…" He trails off like I'm an idiot and I glare at him.

"I know what Madden is," I say snidely, and I can only imagine the atrocity of those nights. I wonder if Alice hangs out with them then.

"You should come out with us soon," he says. He doesn't wait for a response before moving on. "Oh! Someone else you should avoid is Jessica, our secretary. That bitch gossips more than Tyra Banks. Don't tell her anything unless you want it on the front page of that fucking newspaper they pass around every month."

I nod. "Jessica. Worse than Tyra Banks. Got it."

"Then there's Shelly. She's like the mother hen of all the fuckery on our floor. God bless her for trying. Just don't ever swear in front of her – she doesn't like that." He touches his left ear and winces as if reliving a painful memory.

He takes a big bite of his hamburger. Around a mouthful of food he says, "And of course, you know me, Emmett McCarty, AKA the coolest motherfucker you'll ever meet." He winks, an act made less charming by his gaping display of chewed food.

-x-x-x-x-

I speak to the hot doctor before I actually see him. Our transaction takes place over the telephone, so I obviously have no idea how sexy he is at the time.

Had I seen him first, perhaps I would have brushed aside his rudeness. Perhaps I would have been distracted by his beauty and forgotten our conversation altogether.

It's funny how things work out.

"So, is Emmett doing a good job easing you in?" Alice uses her tiny foot to propel herself forward in her rolling chair as she absentmindedly gathers charts.

"So far, so good," I assure. "I definitely know who to avoid."

Her eyes snap to mine. "Did he talk shit about me?" She's suspicious.

"No," I quickly assure. "He said you were cool. Why?"

She relaxes, though not completely, and begins her story. "Emmett thinks he's funny. He likes to make up all these crazy stories about me and tell the new people so they avoid me like the plague."

I'm amused. "Like what?"

"Different stuff. He told one person I was schizophrenic and could lash out at any time, and they should especially guard their loins as that's my main interest of attack."

I grin.

"Oh, and he told another person that me and Aro were having a secret love affair. I mean, seriously! Have you _seen _Aro? One of his legs is even shorter than the other – he wobbles when he walks!"

"Nu uh!"

"Swear to God. It's not obvious, but I totally see it."

I can no longer hold it in – I giggle loudly, gaining Jessica's interest from several feet away.

"Are you sure he didn't say anything about me?" Alice demands.

"Yes, Alice. I'm sure."

"I'll find out if he did, you know."

"I know, I know."

She eases back against her chair, looking exhausted, and sighs. "When the hell are we gonna go to paperless charting already? We spend more time writing crap down than we do taking care of patients."

"You _know_ that's gonna happen in June," Jessica supplies, clearly eavesdropping.

Alice rolls her eyes but doesn't respond.

"Pockets!" Emmett suddenly booms from out of nowhere. "Mr. Williams' lab just came back and his hemoglobin is 7.8. Would you mind calling his doctor for me?"

I sit up straighter, surprised that Emmett is actually doing some work. "Sure."

I pull up the doctor list on the computer and scroll through the names, finding the name somewhere alont the top. _Dr. Cullen_.

Alice steps away from the nurses station while I page him. Not even five minutes later, he calls back.

_Excellent service from the doctors here_, I think humorously. They usually never return calls so quickly.

The voice is smooth when he speaks, the words lacing through the receiver like silk. He sounds tired, but kind.

"This is Dr. Cullen, I was paged."

"Oh, hi Dr. Cullen, my name is Bella. I was calling about Mr. Williams, your patient in 434 by the window who was admitted with a G.I. bleed. His hemoglobin for two o'clock just came back and it's 7.8."

There's a pause on the other end of the line. For a moment, I wonder if I've lost him. Finally, he speaks. "And what does my order say?"

His voice is no longer kind. I flinch and scramble to find the chart, cursing my bad nursing skills for not having it ready.

"Umm...hold on..."

He doesn't give me a chance to find it.

"If you had of bothered to read the order you would've seen that it says to call me only if it's below 7.5."

"Oh. I uh..."

"Thank you." His words, which sound highly ungrateful given their meaning, are cut short by the click of the receiver.

I stare at the phone in my hand, dumbfounded.

"What an asshole," I breathe to myself. Suddenly, Alice is back at my side. She heard me.

"Oh, you mean Dr. Cullen?" she inquires with a giggle. "He's normally cool, but he can have his moments. Emmett should have warned you. Are you okay?"

Her eyes suddenly fill with worry as she regards me.

"Oh yeah," I say, waving off her concern. I take a deep, cleansing breath and offer her a small smile. "Nothing I can't handle."

But my dislike for the hot doctor is fueled into what I think is very justified hatred.

Later on that week, an hour or so after lunch, I hear Jessica chatting with a red-headed phlebotomist over Dr. Cullen. Their voices are hushed, presumptuous gossip oozing from every word, but I still manage to gather that Dr. Cullen is quite the looker. Also, he has a father, Dr. Cullen Sr., who is quite the looker as well.

I'm admittedly curious about him. But it seems as though some doctors automatically get a boost in their looks simply because of their title. Any average Joe suddenly becomes cat-fight worthy.

I don't buy it. Not even for a second. If there's one thing I vowed early on in my career, it's that I could never date a doctor.

Nonetheless, that doesn't stop me from being curious.

Around four o'clock, I finally find the opportunity to do some charting. I gather my patient's charts at a table and get busy, never-minding the fact that I haven't seen Emmett in over an hour. Without his booming voice, there's finally a moment of peace.

I chat a few minutes without interruption. Then, through my peripheral, I see someone sit in front of me, across the table. I automatically look up.

I gasp.

He's a young doctor, perhaps in his early thirties, with shocking bronze hair and a strong jaw. His nose is straight, curving slightly at the end, his lips full. His eyes, set beneath thick brows, are downcast and hidden.

He doesn't look at me, doesn't acknowledge me at all, but instead opens a chart and begins to flip through its contents. I quickly try to recover myself before he catches my gaping expression.

Is _this_ Dr. Cullen?

_Doctors this sexy only exist on Grey's Anatomy._

I lower my gaze and feel a sudden wave of irritation as I recall our conversation from yesterday. He'd been such an ass, yet he probably doesn't even know it was me he'd spoken to. Assholes don't take pretenses like remembering names. But now here he is, avoiding conversation and eye contact and all other normal human interactions.

Here he is, still an ass.

Then he suddenly addresses me. "Do you have Mrs. Carter in room four-thirty-four?"

My gaze snaps to his and I'm instantly in rapture by a pair of green emeralds which appear neither cool nor unkind. They appear tired. The voice is the same smooth velvet, achingly familiar despite our short conversation, and I instantly know that it's the same person.

I pull myself together, straightening a bit as I do so. It seems to take ages to find my voice, and I'm irritated that he has affected me this way.

"Um, no. Angela's taking care of her. Would you like me to call her?"

He stands. "Please. Will you ask her to meet me there?" He walks away briskly without awaiting an answer.

I refrain from rolling my eyes and dial the number to Angela's phone. She answers and assures me she's on her way to the room.

With Dr. Cullen gone, I'm able to breathe again.

They stay gone for several minutes. Eventually, he sits in the seat across from me again, impassively returning to his charting without a thank you or further acknowledgment. I don't let it bother me and, instead, focus on avoiding his gaze as well.

He puts the chart in the rack and leaves a few minutes later. He doesn't say goodbye.

This time I do roll my eyes. Would a little common courtesy kill these doctors? Their cocky behavior is downright tiresome.

I stand with a huff, hoping to take a quick bathroom break. The bathroom door in our break room is closed, as usual, but I push it open with the assumption that it will be locked whenever occupied.

I see Angela standing at the mirror blotting her red eyes. We both jump and, in an awkward lapse of judgment, I forget my manners and stare. Five seconds pass. Then I remember what I'm doing.

"Gosh, Angela! I'm so sorry!" I apologize. I hear her assurances that everything is fine as I step out and shut the door.

I sit down at the same table where we ate lunch to wait, but she doesn't take long. Her eyes are still red and she avoids my gaze.

"I'm done now," she says shyly, head lowered.

"Are you okay?" I instantly ask. I know I'm the new girl, and she doesn't know me, but it seems rude to pretend as if everything is fine when, obviously, she's upset to the point of tears.

"I'm fine," she says, but her eyes began watering again at the thought. "I'm just being overly sensitive again." She gives a dark chuckle. "People keep saying I need to grow a pair."

"Did someone say something to you?"

She looks at me pointedly. "It's nothing."

"It must be _something_. You seem pretty upset about it."

Why am I always so persistent? I wait for her to tell me to fuck off, but instead she sighs and dabs at her eyes with her tissue.

"Dr. Cullen can just be an asshole," she says. The curse sounds foreign coming from her lips, an observation that catches my interest. She must really be upset. I frown and straighten in my seat.

"What did he do?" I demand. I've been here only two days and have already seen tears shed on behalf of this jerk. I can never comprehend why doctors automatically think they're granted the title of God – like only _they _matter, and not sweet innocents like Angela.

Or me, goddamn it.

She sniffs and shifts to her other foot. She looks as though she wants to sit, but I assume she must be trying to slip away as soon as she can and consequently forgoes her own comfort. She remains standing.

"Well the patient asked him about the side effects of one of the new meds he started her on, and when he was finished, I asked him if hot flashes were a side effect as well. The patient had asked me that earlier, Bella. I just wanted to make sure it got addressed." She looks as me desperately, pleading for me to understand. "Well he turned to me and, right in front of the patient and her family, told me this isn't class time. This is the patient's time. He tells me that maybe I should have paid more attention in _nursing_ school and maybe then I would already know the answer." She says "nursing" like it's a bad thing, leading me to believe that Dr. Cullen addressed it in a similar fashion. Her face is turning red as she relives the memory.

I'm appalled. "Are you shitting me?" I cry.

She looks shocked by my outburst. "No," she says pathetically. "I've never been so..._embarrassed_! The patient's family even came out and apologized to me after it was over. They said he had no right to be so hard on me. It was...God, it was humiliating." She blows snot into her tissue. Luckily, she's beginning to calm down.

"Well there are asshole doctors everywhere, Angela," I say, hoping to placate her a bit. "I once had a doctor _scream_ at me in front of the patient."

She's alarmed. "Why?"

"Because I brought him the wrong sized gloves."

"Are you serious?"

"Yep. So I kindly told him not to yell at me, now or ever. Then I left and didn't go back. The charge nurse had to help him."

"Well Dr. Cullen didn't scream at me, luckily," she says bitterly. "He just spoke to me like I was the world's biggest idiot."

_No, Angela. The world's biggest idiot is the doctor who thinks he'll never get what's coming to him_.

But I don't say this. I just smile sympathetically.

"I wouldn't let it bother you, Angela. Some people are just assholes. It's their problem, not yours."

She doesn't look convinced.

"Ever heard of karma?" I ask vaguely. "It exists, you know."

She smiles, but it's obviously forced. "Thanks, Bella. I hope you're right." She checks her watch and glances at the door. "I really need to get back to work. Thanks for the talk."

"No worries," I say, and she offers me one last dry smile before leaving the break room.

-x-x-x-x-

Dr. Cullen is caring for one of my patients today. I try not to think much about him – about his green eyes, his strong jaw, or Angela's tears on his behalf – but it's difficult at times.

At one point, I admit that I don't know how to enter a basic lab order into the computer. Jessica makes it her mission to teach me and I find myself trapped at her computer for a solid thirty minutes while she alternately complains about the system and shows me what to do.

I don't see Dr. Cullen approach. Not until Jessica openly greets him.

"Hello, Dr. Cullen. How are you doing today?"

She's nearly swooning right out of her chair at the sight of him. He's searching for a chart, but pauses to look at her. Then his eyes meet mine.

"I'm fine, Jessica." He looks away. I blink and do the same.

"What chart are you looking for?" she asks eagerly. My computer lesson abandoned, she jumps up to assist him. I struggle to keep from rolling my eyes.

But, as fate would have it, it's _my _patient. And the chart is directly in front of me, beneath my arm as though I'm shielding it from Dr. Cullen and the world. I don't realize I even have it until Jessica is prying it away from me.

"Here it is!" she exclaims. "Looks like Bella was hiding it from you, Dr. Cullen."

I consider murdering Jessica, and even debate places to hide the body, but there's no time.

"Is this your patient, Bella?"

I'm shocked he remembers my name – even though its only been five seconds since it's last utterance – but refrain from the dramatic gasp.

"Yes, Sir." I want to kill myself for calling him sir. I've lost absolutely every shred of dignity I have.

"I'm about to go see her."

_Umm...okay_. That's what I want to say. What I actually say is nothing. What I actually _do_ is drag ass behind him as he walks down the hall. And I try very, very hard not to stare at _his_ ass, because he's forgone his lab coat today and _fuck_ he looks hot in scrubs.

_I'd totally hit that_.

What the hell! Did _I_ just think that?

I don't _do _doctors. Cocky nerds who suddenly think they're God's gift to humanity? That would be a negative. A big, _huge _negative.

Though with Dr. Cullen's strong arms and fuckable hair, I have a hard time imagining him readings comics and jerking off to Princess Leia scenes. On the contrary, my imagination runs in a much naughtier direction.

We enter the patient's room, where he smiles and charms the stockings right off the poor lady. He has great bedside manners, that much is clear. In fact, he doesn't seem all that bad. Not like that time on the phone. And definitely not worthy of rendering innocent nurses to tears.

Maybe it's an act. It's all just a ruse. _Obviously._

He speaks to the patient for a few minutes, and then something happens. Something glorious, which opens up the sky and causes the angels to sing and the little light of opportunity to beam down over the room.

He gives me an opportunity to correct him. An opportunity that most nurses would ignore, but which I'm very keen on discussing because...well, it's for the patient, after all. _Right_.

The devil on my shoulder cackles maliciously.

"I'll change your pain medicine to Vicodin," he says. "You can have one to two tablets every four to six hours if you need it, okay? Just ask your nurse. Do you need something for pain now?"

Mrs. Benson nods. I clear my throat, but Dr. Cullen ignores me.

"Miss, um..."

"It's Bella," I say, my voice sugary sweet. Guess he forgot my name after all. Fucker.

He gives me _the look_. "Bella. Will you get Mrs. Benson something for pain, please?" he asks coldly, dismissing me from the room. It's a complete one-eighty from the tone he used with his patient.

But I don't leave. "I actually don't think your choice of pain medicine is a good idea," I say instead, gathering all my internal strength from my father and his father and, hell, _everyone's _father. This is not like me, but I'm bound to see it through to the end. _For Angela_.

I can practically hear the strain of his muscles as every fiber in his body tenses. He looks at me, his eyes growing dark. "Oh? Well unfortunately for you, you're just the nurse, _Bella_. You don't get to make that call."

_Just the nurse_. I want to deck him.

His voice is so dark, so cold, that someone else would probably flinch, but that would show weakness. And if there's one thing I'm not going to do in my defining moment – in the moment where I, nurse Bella Swan, show up Dr. Cullen, a feat that probably should have been done ages ago and will likely never be done again in all of nurse kind – it's show weakness.

"I'm just looking out for the interest of my patient, Dr. Cullen." I look at Mrs. Benson, who's regarding us both with wide, cautious eyes. "Isn't that what you'd like for us to do, Mrs. Benson?"

"Please enlighten me, _Bella_, as to why you think my choice of pain medication is a bad decision."

This may not be the best argument in the world, but at least it's something. It should piss him off, at least, which is really all I'm aiming to do. So I go with it.

"Well, _Dr. Cullen_, Mrs. Benson was admitted to us with a fractured spine, which causes her to complain of pain almost constantly. We can _assume_ that she'll be relieved by the Vicodin, but based on my previous experience with spinal fractures and osteoporosis, I doubt it. Assuming that she's not relieved, she'll be requesting the maximum dose of two Vicodin tablets every four hours, which is 1000mg of Tylenol every four hours. That ends up being 5,000mg of Tylenol a day. Seems a bit much for an eighty year old woman, don't you think?"

I've done it – I've called him out in front of his patient, pulling the old reverse-Cullen-tearjerker move. At least, that's what I'm calling it.

I look him square in the eye, my voice even and unwavering. I'm certain that if looks could kill, I'd have fallen over dead by now. His glare is lethal.

I want to cower in the corner, but I stand my ground. It's far, far too late to back down now – not without looking asinine.

"_Bella." _Good God with the name. "I set the parameters for a reason. It's your job as a _nurse _to monitor her intake and ensure that she is not being overdosed."

"_Dr. Cullen_." That's right - two can play at this game. "You can try to justify that all day long, but the reality is that the next nurse is going to give her her pain medicine when it's due if the patients in pain. The way _you_ ordered it. And it will put her in danger of liver failure."

His eyes flash to Mrs. Benson, who looks downright entertained by our display. I'm surprised she hasn't rung the bell for a tub of popcorn yet.

Then his eyes are back on mine, dark and angry. "We'll finish discussing this outside."

I leave, not bothering to wait on him. I'm not sure how much longer I can put up this bold front. It's not like me. I can stand up for myself, sure. But initiating such ballsy behavior? With someone as intimidating as Dr. Cullen, no less? And sexy, let's not forget sexy.

But I think of Angela, and her tears, and I realize it was all worth it.

Then I feel a tight hand on my arm, spinning me around. I'm pressed against the wall, and all the ferocity, all the fury that is Dr. Cullen is channeled towards me in an angry and relentless scowl. He doesn't release his grip, but I'm aware that I could easily scream if things get desperate.

That actually doesn't make me feel much better.

"Just _what_ do you think you're doing?" he hisses at me, his face inches from mine. I'm wary and, quite frankly, a little peeved that he's touching me while showing his ass this way. Not to mention a tad bit turned on.

_What is wrong with me?_ I quickly snatch my arm away from his grip, disgusted with myself.

"Just protecting my patient from harmful medical errors," I say maliciously.

"There's a time to discuss those things, and that doesn't include at the bedside. And most definitely not in front of my patient." He keeps his voice low so that it doesn't carry down the hallway, but his tone is hard enough to cut steel.

"Yeah, well, there's a time to discuss your complaints with a nurse if you don't like what she's doing. _And most definitely not in front of the patient_."

He's confused, but no less angry. "What are you talking about?" he hisses.

"I'm talking about you humiliating Angela in front of her patient the other day."

Recognition dawns, but he just as quickly battles it away. "What happened between me and another nurse is none of your concern. You'd be wise to worry about yourself, _Bella._"

"Well I find that a little difficult when my friend is crying her eyes out in the bathroom over what you did!"

My finger is suddenly jabbing into his chest, probably committing a million doctor-nurse tragedies of some sort. I wonder if I can get in trouble for this. I wonder if _he _can get in trouble for this.

Then I feel bad for Angela. I obviously just outed her; hopefully she wasn't aiming to appear strong and confident.

"Maybe your friend needs to grow a spine. It's a dirty world, Bella. Not everyone is going to hold her hand and be nice to her."

What. An. _Asshole_.

Just like all cocky doctors I've met, this one's no different. Dr. Cullen wins the prize for cockiest son-of-a-bitch of the day. And I've had enough.

I pull away from him, away from the wall, and he luckily steps backwards to give me some space. I likely would have launched my knee into his nads if he hadn't, good looks or not. I'm done.

"It's called humanity," I spit at him. "Common courtesy. Don't shit on your coworkers. We're a team, _Doctor_. Not your slaves."

I stomp back to the nurses station, leaving him scowling in the hallway. I'm not sure what to do now – can I very well sit around while he's here and pretend none of this just happened? He'll be back any moment to finish charting...

But I don't have to decide. Alice finds me, eyes wild, and promptly grabs me by the arm and steers me away. We duck into the med room.

"What the hell was that?" she demands, all breathing heavy and excited. I don't know what the hell her problem is.

"What?" I ask innocently, not wanting to give myself away if she is, in fact, referring to something completely unrelated to our little show-down in the hallway. But that's highly unlikely. Her cocked, doubtful eyebrow tells me this.

"Seriously?" she says. "Are you seriously going to deny that little show you two just put on?"

I glance behind me, worried. But the door is closed and there's no one else here. "Did people see us?" I ask anxiously.

"Just me, I think."

"Thank God." I don't bother hiding my sigh of relief.

"What was that about, anyway?"

There's no point in lying to her. And if there's one person here who I can trust, I figure it's her.

"I called him out in front of his patient," I explain. Her eyes widen comically, so I quickly go in for the kill. "Um...on purpose. Just to piss him off."

Yeah, that sounds real noble of me. In sweeps the newbie to purposefully piss off all the hot doctors. Should I accept my Nurse of the Year award now or later?

"You're kidding!" she whispers excitedly. "But why? Was it because of the phone call the other day?"

I go on to tell her the whole story, beginning with Angela and ending with everything he said before we parted. I leave out the part about how nice and clear his skin was or how well his aftershave smelled as he was using every ounce of restraint to keep from murdering me in the hallway.

She responds with a loud laugh. "God, I can't wait to tell Emmett about this," she says.

I gasp, my eyes widening in alarm. "What? No, you can't tell Emmett," I argue.

"Why not?"

"I don't want this going around, Alice. I've barely worked here a week. Please, please, _please_ don't tell Emmett!"

She frowns in disappointment, but eventually nods.

"Alright, I won't," she assures me. "Your secret is safe with me, I guess." She looks like someone just kicked her puppy.

I sigh in relief and thank her.

We slowly make our way back out to the nurses station. I contemplate stalling, or else hiding in a patient's room or something, but I refuse to give Dr. Cullen the satisfaction. Not to mention the door to the med room is directly visible from his seat.

I secretly hope he's already gone.

But as I exit the room, I see that he's still there. He's brooding over the chart, flipping the pages with more force than is necessary. He doesn't see me until I've passed him in the station.

His green eyes meet mine, angry, narrowed, and more heated than I remember from before. They're smoldering, practically inviting me back for a rematch simply so I can witness their intensity from such a close range again.

I escape into the break room, trying to manage my heavy breaths as I reevaluate everything that's just happened and the way I'm currently feeling.

Dr. Cullen obviously has some kind of crazy, voodoo eye power, and every fiber of my being will take precautions to avoid its effect.

* * *

**A/N**: **WOW! I'm blown away by the support I received for the prologue. I'm sorry I couldn't reply to all the reviews, but now that I'm getting this started AND finishing up the other fic, I haven't had much time...not that I'm ever that great at it anyway, but just know that I love hearing what you think. Love love love. And your positive comments are what inspired me to post the first chap today.**

**Just to clarify, Edward is a hospitalist. If you're not sure what that is, it's the doctor that takes care of you while you're hospitalized if you don't already have a primary doctor (or any doctor, in some cases, because a cardiologist or surgeon could admit you if it's necessary). Hospitalists make rounds in the ER, but they're not the doctors that see you when you first come in. The ER doctor sees you first. Rosalie is a hospitalist as well.**

**Not everything in this story is going to be from real-life experiences. This is not necessarily how I or my cowokers act at our job. If Emmett says something derogatory about a patient to Bella, please don't assume that all nurses are like this or talk this way. Some things are for the sake of entertainment - otherwise, I'd just work 7 days a week, which is actually even less fun than it sounds.**

**I'm mybluesky1 on twitter.**

**So what do we think of the hot doc so far? **

**xoxo**


	3. Chapter Two

**A/N: The response to this story has blown me away! You guys make me excited to write this. As a big thanks, and because so many ppl hinted that they wanted it, I wrote an EPOV outtake of their confrontation last chapter that I'm sending out in review replies for this chapter. So now we'll know what he was thinking during that shit-fest.**

**I'd like to clarify something real quick before we go any further..._I do not hate doctors_. I've met some really nice, dedicated, amazing doctors in my career. However, some ppl just suck in general. Some are nice, and some are not. It really just depends on the person.**

**Also, what Bella did to Edward last chap was unprofessional and could have gotten her in trouble. It's not something I'd do in real life, because I like being able to buy food and pay my mortgage and stuff. But realistically, in order for her to get in trouble, Edward would have to turn her in, which he doesn't do. He's not THAT much of a prick, surprisingly. And plus, she looks cute in scrubs.**

**ms-ambrosia beta'd this, but when I went back and read it I was a little mortified by my own writing skills and rewrote a bunch of it. So it's possible I added in a whole new slew of errors, but hopefully not. And passionmama preread as always, so thanks to them both!**

**Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer.**

-x-x-x-x-

**Chapter 2 – I Prefer Cornflakes**

I don't see Dr. Cullen again for the rest of the week. Not that I look for him or anything. This is merely an innocent observation.

However, it's soon apparent that Emmett is aware of the little soiree we had in the hallway. He greets me one morning with a devious, knowing grin and inconspicuously says, "So… I hear you and Dr. Cullen did a little mating dance in the hallway the other day."

I can't hide my gasp of surprise. Jessica, eavesdropping as usual, throws a dirty look in my direction.

"How did you hear about that?" I demand, my voice low in warning. I'm fairly certain Alice is the only other person who knew. Did she rat me out?

Emmett's answer is simple. "He told me."

"He? Who's 'he'?"

"Dr. Cullen, of course. Come on, Pockets. Wake up." He waves his hand in front of my face and I instantly smack it away.

Dr. Cullen talked about me? _Holy crap_. This can't be good.

"You talked to him?" I ask eagerly, and I know I must sound pathetic. I should be pretending like I don't care about any of this.

"Yeah, we hang out," he says. This is apparently old news, but I'm surprised.

"Well, why didn't you say something?" My tone is accusing. I don't mean to sound this way, but damn, it would have been good to know. He could have added that shit before or after his stupid little Tyra Banks speech.

He looks confused. "Should I write down a list of everyone I hang out with or something?" he asks sarcastically.

"Shut the fuck up, Emmett. You know what I mean." He shrugs. "So what did he tell you?" I persist.

"That he's wildly turned on and wants to father your children."

He says this with a straight face. And I should know better...I really, really should. But as fathering said children would require some deliciously naughty foreplay – the sort that have admittedly occupied my mind on more than one occasion this week - I do possibly the dumbest thing ever and allow my mouth to open before I think.

"Really?"

The word actually sounds kind of hopeful, which is terribly embarrassing. I wish I could take it back not even half a second after it leaves my mouth.

Emmett snorts. "No, not really."

I rarely blush, but I suspect my face is hot enough to fry bacon.

"Yeah, good. Cause that would be weird," I say, attempting to play it off. But Emmett isn't fooled. He eyes me curiously.

"So have you met many people around here yet?" he wonders, and I'm grateful for the subject change.

"Not really. Just you guys. Oh, and this weirdo who lives two doors down from me. I can hear him puking through like five sets of walls every morning. It's disgusting."

He seems impressed. "Wow, Pockets. You've got me beat. My neighbor just borrows milk and shit. I never get the luxury of hearing her puke before breakfast."

"Yeah, well. You have to choose your apartment wisely these days. Otherwise, you miss out."

"Right, right. Well it sounds like your social life is really thriving." His tone is conversational and yet sarcastic, but I don't take offense. My social life is crap right now. I know this.

After work, I usually just go home and watch a little TV before passing out on the couch. On days I don't work, I procrastinate while unpacking and running errands so that I actually only accomplish two or three things but still feel as though I've done a whole days worth of chores. Keeping busy helps me feel slightly less pathetic.

"Well my couch is getting a lot of action, if that's what you mean."

Emmett nods. He doesn't really seem to even be listening to me, or else he just doesn't care. "So I take it you haven't found anyone you're really interested in," he says casually.

I'm a little perturbed by the sudden shift in this conversation. "Interested in?"

"Yeah, you know. For making babies and shit."

I sigh. "Emmett..."

"Just humor me, Pockets. Seen anyone you think is cute?"

Besides the sexy, rude doctor who hates me? To be honest, no one else has really caught my attention.

"Not really," I lie.

"Good. I know someone who would be _perfect_ for you. Just tell me when you want to meet him."

I'm surprised. "Oh, I uh...I don't do blind dates," I meagerly protest. "Sorry."

"You _didn't_ do blind dates," he corrects me. "Now you do. Saturday night good for you?"

"No."

"Alright, Friday night it is."

"_No_, Emmett-"

"Christ, Pockets," he exclaims, exasperated. "Just suck it up and go with it. You're off this weekend and you already said you don't know anyone, which translates into hanging out on your couch by yourself every night. The least you can do is go out and meet some people."

I scowl at him, because damn it, he's right. I _do_ need to meet some people. But if this date turns sour, so help me God, I'm serving Emmett's nads on a platter.

"Fine," I grumble, rolling my eyes in irritation. "But don't expect me to enjoy myself."

Emmett grins, and it puts a strange, uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. "I wouldn't dream of it, Pockets."

-x-x-x-x-

Alice invites herself over to my tiny apartment so she can help me get ready for my date. I insist I don't need help – I mean, I'm not retarded; I can match a shirt and a pair of pants together – but she's having none of that nonsense.

She shuffles the clothes around in my closet, huffing and sighing every two seconds. She gets more and more agitated by the minute.

"See this?" She holds up one of my long-sleeved flannel shirts, extra-large, a remnant of Charlie's I'd snatched during my last visit. "This will never do. It doesn't go with _anything_." She tosses it towards the bed, but it hits the edge and crumples in a heap on the floor.

"Hey!" I protest, rushing over to pick it up. I cradle it against my chest like my first-born, protecting it from whatever issues Alice has going on right now.

"It's a _man's_ shirt, Bella," she says, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I wear it around the apartment. There's nothing wrong with that. It's really comfy."

"But what if a cute guy comes over?"

This is a weak argument. Cute guys don't just knock on my door like I'm starring in some kind of weird pizza guy porn fetish video.

"Why would a cute guy come over?" I ask.

Alice is buried somewhere deep inside my closet. I can hear her voice, it's just hard to figure out where it's coming from. "You should always look cute when you're single, Bella. You have to be ready. _Just in case_."

I roll my eyes. I've never put in a whole lot of effort when it comes to men. If I have to get dolled up and pretend I'm someone I'm not in order to get their attention, then it's not really worth it. And to be honest, those are not necessarily the type of men I want to attract anyway.

I concentrate on my makeup. I don't wear a lot, but I focus more on my eyes whenever I'm dressing up. A little bit of blended eyeliner can give a nice, seductive look, and this could be beneficial if the date is worthwhile.

But to be honest, I'm actually a little nervous. A part of me trusts Emmett, but another part suspects he'd screw me over in a nanosecond if it meant he'd get a laugh out of the ordeal.

"Are you sure you don't know this guy?" I call out to Alice. All I've been told is that he's tall, has dark hair, and his name is Anthony. Alice has never heard of him, which I think is suspicious.

"Nope," she replies.

"Don't you think it's kind of weird that no one knows him?" I ask.

"He's friends with Emmett, apparently," Alice says, as if that settles everything. "So Emmett must think he's cool. And I wouldn't worry about him being a serial killer or anything because you have a week of orientation left. That's a whole week Emmett's planning on making you do all his work, so he wouldn't dare compromise you before then."

I nod. This is true.

Fortunately, I already forced Alice to set up a secret code with me. If the date is a bust then I'll excuse myself to the bathroom, text _911_ to Alice, then wait for the emergency phone call and imminent excuse for a quick getaway.

I don't know how these things work or how people pull them off, to be honest. I've never gone on a blind date before; the entire night I've been secretly strategizing ways to get a look at this guy before he even knows I'm in the restaurant. This way, I can haul ass if things aren't looking good.

Not that I'm shallow or anything, but I do have my limits.

Unfortunately, this feat isn't possible without knowing the layout of the restaurant in advance. And I've never eaten there before. Not to mention I have no idea what this guy really looks like or how I'm ever going to spot him. Yeah, blind dates really aren't my thing.

I'm ready to go within an hour – an usually long time for me, but Alice insisted on changing my outfit _three _times before finally agreeing to a dark blue, knee-length skirt and a matching blouse. I wear short heels and a light cover-up and leave my hair wavy along my back.

I'm right on time in finding the restaurant. I even have a few minutes to spare, which is good because it gives me time to linger at the entrance and scope out the place.

I peek inside, crestfallen to discover that there's a giant wall in the center that blocks the entire god damn dining room. I eye it in disdain and then trudge forward, pausing when the hostess greets me.

"How many?" she asks politely.

"Two, but I'm actually meeting somebody here," I explain. "His name is Anthony. He's tall with dark hair."

I give her everything I know. Lord help me if it's not enough.

"Anthony?" She scans a paper in front of her. "I don't have anyone named Anthony on my list. But I think I know who you're talking about. Is it a blind date?"

I'm confused, but I nod anyway. "Yes."

She tries to conceal a small, knowing smirk. "Right this way."

We walk around the giant wall, down three steps and into the dining room. The place is busy, but not crowded. The atmosphere is hushed and neutral, the lighting dim but romanticized with a small candle on each table. I can't help but zone in on every table like a sniper, eagerly searching for one with only a single occupant.

I don't see this table until it's already too late – we're only two or so feet away. By then, the bronze hair and green eyes have caught my gaze, and I come to an abrupt halt.

_What the fuck?_

We both frown, mirroring each other's expression, and I assure myself there must be some sort of mistake. Surely Emmett wouldn't set me up with the pompous _Dr. Cullen_. Would he?

_Crap._

Dr. Cullen stands at my arrival. The hostess pulls my seat for me. "Here you are, Miss," she says professionally. For a few seconds, I stare blankly at the chair; then, like a zombie, I step forward and sit.

The hostess gives me a sly smile as she slips away, obviously enamored by Dr. Cullen's good looks. He sits as well, eyeing me warily. He seems equally confused.

For a few painful moments, neither of us speak. I contemplate excusing myself to the bathroom for my emergency text, but as soon as I make this decision, Dr. Cullen clears his throat.

"Is this a joke?" he asks me seriously.

Despite the fact that I was thinking the very same thing, I can't help but be a little offended.

"That's a good question," I say haughtily. "Perhaps it's something I should be asking _you_."

"Me? What for?" He seems even more annoyed than I am, which is saying a lot. I enjoy looking at the man, but Jesus Christ, I don't want to be forced to converse with him over a full-course dinner.

"Emmett's _your_ friend, isn't he?"

"You think I _asked_ him to set us up?" he asks in surprise. That's not what I really thought, no, but I'm offended again nonetheless.

"I'd surely hope not. Not at after you practically harassed me in the hallway!"

He opens his mouth to retaliate, but we're suddenly interrupted by our server, who introduces himself as Riley. I'm not sure whether I should even bother ordering, but Dr. Cullen glares at me impatiently, forcing me to make a hasty decision.

I quickly order a drink, being careful to make a point when I add, "Make it a double. I'm gonna need something strong tonight."

Dr. Cullen's jaw clenches, but he doesn't say anything as he gives a similar order. I notice he's dressed sharply in a button-down dress shirt with dark navy slacks and a navy tie to match. His hair, while slightly more tamed than it was at work, is still a glorious mess. He's clean-shaven and I can smell his cologne, subtle yet enticing, from all the way across the table.

The server leaves, and we lapse into another uncomfortable silence.

Dr. Cullen peruses his menu and ignores me, his eyes hard and his body tense. To be honest, he's kind of sexy this way. I can't help but be enamored, once again, by how utterly gorgeous he is. Especially when I imagine him in his scrubs, a fact that I find slightly disturbing.

That and the fact that I imagine myself straddling his lap and licking his jaw.

_Holy fuck_.

When I look up from my menu, it's to find him staring at me, smiling smugly.

"What?" I snap, self-conscious and leery.

"Not leaving, I see," he says condescendingly.

I gape at him just as Riley sets my drink in front of me. I close my menu, my mind made up, and take a huge swallow of my Whiskey Sour. I smile at Riley in gratitude, and then turn back to Dr. Cullen, my determination returning. Dr. Cullen looks amused.

"Well after you were so rude to me the other day, I think the least you can do is buy me dinner," I reply.

Dr. Cullen doesn't respond, but this is probably because Riley is still standing over us, patiently waiting for a chance to speak. He's smiling at us, apparently not thrown off at all by my statement.

"Are we ready to order?" he asks pleasantly. Dr. Cullen and I glance at each other. Reluctantly, we both nod.

I order the most expensive thing on the menu and add on whatever small expenses I can. I secretly hope Dr. Cullen doesn't get up and leave, because there is no way I can afford this after being out of work for two weeks and all of the moving expenses I've acquired. But I don't think about that now.

I feel a little shitty for doing this to him, but not enough to make me change my mind.

But then, to my surprise, Dr. Cullen orders something equally expensive and hands back the menu with a pleasant smile. He even thanks our server.

Alone again, and the silence follows. We both sip our drinks, avoiding eye contact, and all I can think is how I would give anything to know what he's thinking.

The paranoid side of me is…well…paranoid. What's his deal? Why isn't he talking? I throw quick glances his way, but he's lost in thought, purposefully avoiding my gaze.

Riley eventually brings me a new drink. Just when I'm beginning to suspect that we may conduct our _entire _meal in silence, Dr. Cullen shifts in his seat and speaks.

"Look, I'm sorry about whatever happened the other day." I'm surprised he's apologizing, even if it is long past due. What's not surprising are his next words. "However, you still shouldn't have contradicted me in front of my patient." His voice is calm and certain. He feels strongly about this.

I think for a moment and decide to be honest. "You're right, maybe I shouldn't have. It wasn't professional. But you should know that I did it on purpose just to piss you off."

Maybe that was a little _too_ honest, but he doesn't look surprised. He probably suspected as much. "Well, it worked," he says. "And may I ask why?"

"Because you were being an arrogant asshole."

His face darkens, and I can tell he wants to argue, but Riley chooses that exact moment to present us with our food. We sit back as everything is placed; Dr. Cullen is openly scowling and rudely blows Riley off when he asks us if we need anything.

Riley turns to me, confused, so I smile sweetly before sending him on his way.

As soon as he's out of hearing range, Dr. Cullen leans forward and angrily whispers, "Do I fucking know you from somewhere? You met me what…a minute earlier? And that was enough time to jump to those conclusions?"

"I spoke to you on the phone the other day, as a matter of fact," I hiss. "You were as much of a ass then as you are right now. And you also made my coworker cry after you humiliated her in front of _her_ patient. Doesn't feel so good, does it?"

Surprisingly, Dr. Cullen doesn't respond. He sits back and pinches the bridge of his nose, truthfully looking a little stressed out, and then sighs before picking up his fork and beginning to eat. He doesn't look at me and neither of us speak.

I warily pick up my own fork and begin eating, concluding that this has to be the most ridiculous thing that's ever happened to me. I can't even figure out why I'm still sitting here.

After a moment, Dr. Cullen calms down. He looks up at me, his voice measured. "You're right, Bella. I was a being dick that day. I was having a bad day and shouldn't have taken it out on her."

I can't believe he's apologizing. I'm a little surprised, but mostly, I'm…relieved?

But I don't let him off the hook that easily. "You should tell that to her, not me," I say.

This is true, but I feel terrible the instant the words leave my mouth. Dr. Cullen is trying to own up to his mistakes and be the bigger person. The least I can do is accept his damn apology.

I backtrack. "Sorry," I quickly mumble. "You know what? I shouldn't have said that."

He looks like he wants to agree, but he doesn't. His green eyes flash to mine, but otherwise, he ignores me.

There's another awkward silence. There's nothing but the soft clink of our forks against the plates and the murmur of voices around us. This is bordering on ridiculous.

I finally release a loud, exasperated sigh. "Look, can we just start over? This whole thing is stupid. You're right, I don't know you and you don't know me. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions and…you know…did what I did.

"And anyway, I just moved here," I go on. "It's a little too soon for me to be hating people. I don't _like_ hating people. You just kind of pissed me off. Then you yelled at me, and I don't like being yelled at either."

His eyes meet mine again, and this time he looks slightly bemused. "I didn't yell."

"Speaking in low, hateful tones is the same as yelling," I argue. "You just didn't want to draw attention."

He shrugs. I'm right, and he knows it. Then he looks at me again, his expression serious. He even leans in a little. "So you hate me?"

What the hell does this guy want from me?

"Well, I don't _like _you," I reiterate. "I guess hate is a pretty strong word considering I don't even know you. To be honest, I haven't really thought much about you, so it's a moot point," I lie.

He smirks, and I resist rolling my eyes. Why does he have to be so attractive? This would be so much easier if he was…say…fat and bald. Or had a skin condition. _Anything_.

"Whatever you say, Bella." His look is knowing, and I'm suddenly a little paranoid that he somehow knows about these lusty thoughts I've been having.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask defensively. Too defensively, I'm sure, because his eyebrows raise in surprise.

"It doesn't mean anything," he says simply.

"Mmm hmm."

We continue eating.

After a moment, I say, "You don't really strike me as the type to do blind dates."

He clears his throat. "Yeah, well, Emmett bugged the shit out of me until I gave in. Said you and I were practically a match made in heaven."

We both scoff.

"That ass. We should totally do something to get him back," I say.

Dr. Cullen looks amused. "Like what?"

"I don't know. Oh! We could set him up with that Dr. Hale chick. Have you noticed the sexual tension between those two?"

He laughs, and I realize it's the first time I've actually seen him smile. Like, really smile. And it's beautiful, and it makes my insides twist, but I quickly compose myself and try to look unaffected.

"You know, they actually…uh…had a fling once," he tells me.

I didn't know this, and I'm suddenly wide-eyed with interest. "Oh? Do share." I spear some potatoes and eat a mouthful, watching Dr. Cullen expectantly.

"There's not really much to say. They had sex, and then she apparently just blew him off. I don't know _exactly_ why, but Emmett seems to believe it's because she's a doctor and he's a nurse."

I know he doesn't mean any offense by these words, but I find myself bristling at his statement. "Oh, really?" I ask, my words slow and deliberate. "So he's not good enough for her, then. Is that it?"

Dr. Cullen looks affronted, and I realize my tone may have been a tad bit accusatory. "I don't know," he answers slowly. "That's just what Emmett thinks."

"What do _you_ think?"

He pauses, then says, "I think he's right."

I slowly count to five in my head. We were actually doing really well for about five minutes or so. Such a shame.

Dr. Cullen looks at me warily. He must sense my distress.

It takes every ounce of self-control I have to not unleash my wrath on him. "Is that what you think, then? That doctors are better than nurses?" My voice is eerily calm.

"No! I never said that," he says quickly.

"But Dr. Hale thinks so."

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm not Dr. Hale."

I turn back to my food, which is starting to get cold, and focus my attention there. When I look up again, Dr. Cullen is peering at me with a small smile.

"What?" I ask sharply.

The quirk of his lips doesn't falter. "Are you always so defensive?"

I scowl and begin tearing into my steak. "No."

"I see." He watches me a moment and then adds, "That steak is innocent, you know." He points at it with his fork.

I sigh and pick up my drink, taking a long swallow. I really am wound up. I should try to chill the hell out, but truthfully, now that we're kind of getting along, I'm more than a little nervous.

I signal for our server to bring me another drink.

"So," I say conversationally, hoping to eliminate any animosity I may have just created between us. "Do you have a first name? Or should I keep calling you Dr. Cullen?"

I know what his name is, but as weird as it sounds, I want his permission to call him by it. Otherwise, he must truly still hate me and everything will remain as professionally calloused as before.

"I wasn't aware you were still calling me Dr. Cullen," he says, smiling.

"In my head I do," I clarify.

"Well, my name is Edward," he offers. "And yes, I'd actually prefer if you called me Edward."

I nod, yet from out of nowhere the image of me riding him while screaming the name _Dr. Cullen_ pops into my mind. I'm rightfully mortified and duck my head, hoping to hide my flaming face.

He frowns. "Are you okay?" he asks, worried. I clear my throat and nod.

"I'm fine."

I chug my drink, and at this point I'm finally starting to relax. The alcohol grants me bravery and I sneak looks at him, admiring his beautiful face. I try to be sly, but he's wearing that same damn knowing smirk and I have a feeling he knows what I'm up to.

I try to clean my plate, to prove some unknown point, but that steak was like twenty damn ounces or something. I don't think sprinting to the bathroom with dinner halfway out my mouth is going to make a good impression, though why I'm even bothering to make a good impression is somewhat of a mystery.

Edward is still eating. I have nothing to do, so to keep myself busy I nibble on my bread. He keeps glancing at me, and I keep glancing at him. But I'm agitated by the silence, so I sigh and try to initiate conversation again.

"Um, so how long have you…you know…been a doctor?" The way I say it makes it sound like it's something dirty, but it's not. I have no idea why it comes out this way. I don't hate doctors, despite my reservations about them.

"Three years."

He looks so young. Late twenties or early thirties, at the most.

"How long have you been a nurse?" he asks me.

"Four years."

"Where are you from?"

It's weird how this has happened. We went from hating each other to being civilized to actually asking each other questions. He's acting as though he's actually interested in me, which I doubt is the case. He's probably just seeking to fill this silent void as well.

"Florida. Jacksonville," I answer.

"Oh, yeah?" he says, curious. "Why'd you move all the way across the country?"

The bit about Alec is none of his business, and not something I want him to know, but I give him a truthful answer. "I grew up here. My dad lives in Forks."

He smiles. "I've been there a few times."

"I'm sorry," I say automatically, and we both laugh. His eyes are shining now. He looks even younger than before and his smile is nice.

"What about you? Are you from Seattle?"

"Chicago, actually," he answers. "But my mom is from Seattle so we moved back here when I was twelve. I've been here since."

Such a simple answer, yet it sounds so personal. It's putting a personality behind the cocky face...the face which isn't really all that cocky, now that I push prejudices aside and actually consider what the whole picture may be. Perhaps he was just having a shitty day. It happens.

The server offers us dessert, but I'm stuffed and politely decline.

"Do you want a coffee or anything?" Edward asks. He's completely civil now, as though we never had our little argument. "They have pretty good lattes here."

I'm still feeling good from the alcohol. Feeling a little bold, I sit back in my seat and pat my belly. I wink and it's obnoxious, but I don't care.

"Looks like Emmett set you up on a pretty bangin' date," I tease. "I see you don't want it to end."

He's just being polite, I'm sure, but I'm notorious for making a fool out of myself when I'm drunk. Or in this case, tipsy will do.

"Now who's being cocky?" he jokes. "I just happen to know how to treat a pretty girl on a date. They happen to call me Rico Suave."

And this time, _he _winks, though it's much sexier, even if he is only playing along.

And did he just call me pretty?

"Ooh. A doctor has jokes," I say, ignoring the pretty comment.

He leans forward, elbows on the table, and if it weren't for the smile tugging at his lips I'd think he was going to say something alarmingly serious.

"What doctor shit in your cheerios this morning, Bella?" he asks, his voice low. His eyes stay on mine and capture my surprise.

I clear my throat and reach for my glass, hoping to take a sip of my drink and look really cool while I think of a good comeback. But the glass is empty. _God damnit_.

I twirl the ice around in the glass and Edward looks downright entertained.

"I prefer cornflakes."

God, I'm _so_ lame. What is wrong with me? A cute man stares at me and I suddenly can't think of anything witty to say. I'm usually better than this.

"My bad." Edward can't contain his grin as he takes a sip of his own drink, which is still full, and he leans back and looks completely cool while doing it. I feel like such a twat.

"Well, you know," he goes on, "it's actually a requirement for doctors to take Arrogance101 before medical school. Not everyone knows that."

Yes, the doctor has lots and lots of jokes.

"No, I knew that, actually," I say. "I actually read a study regarding that class's benefits towards the medical field."

"Right, right. And if you can't pass, you can't be a doctor. It wheedles out the modest ones pretty quick."

"Lord, the last thing we need are modest doctors," I say seriously.

"Fuck, no. Modest doctors are the bane of our society. They spend way too much time treating patients. It's insulting."

Gosh, he's hot when he curses.

"I second that. I mean, who wants to go to the doctor to get _treated_? We go there so we can stare at hot people with money and feel inferior in comparison. _Obviously_."

This is fun. Edward seems to think so, too, because he's still smiling at me from over his drink. I wish I had another drink – something to keep me occupied so that I'm not just sitting here with no form of distraction – but I don't wave the server over for more. I'm already feeling my last three drinks, and I need to drive home.

The check is placed on the table.

"I can pay my half," I offer, and I curse myself for ordering such expensive shit. My wallet is drained from moving and I haven't even gotten my first paycheck yet.

"We're on a _date_," he says, and his words sound almost teasing. "Now let the good doctor pay."

I want to say something funny, but the doctor insults are starting to lose their charm. Not that they ever had any, but at least Edward played along.

After he pays, we stand from the table and leave. Edward doesn't hold my hand or offer me his jacket or anything else mushy or romantic, because neither of us see it that way – we were on a date that was organized by a scheming friend which was meant to be taken as a joke. But we survived it, and perhaps now we'll even be friends.

Not everything was a disaster.

He walks me to my car. "You know, this turned out to not be so bad," Edward offers. I should probably be insulted, but I'm not. I actually agree.

"Gee, thanks," I say, teasing again. It's all I seem to know how to do. I can't allow myself to have a serious conversation with a man who hated me just an hour ago and who now makes my insides turn to jello with just a simple, crooked smile.

"You know what I mean."

"You're right, I do," I agree. "Sorry."

"No worries. It was fun."

I unlock the door and Edward reaches over to open it for me. When he pulls away, his hand grazes my arm, igniting a spark so loud that we both hear the _pop_ and simultaneously jump back from each other.

"Ow!" I snatch my arm far away from his, holding it with my other hand protectively. "You just shocked the crap out of me!"

Edward's laughing as he rubs his hand. "Must be my electric personality."

"Yeah, well, take that shit elsewhere," I huff, sliding into my car. "That _hurt_."

I shut the door and roll down the window. He looks down at me, still smiling.

"So, uh…I guess I'll see you at work?" I hesitantly ask.

He grins again. Gosh, he's fucking cute. He's going to make great eye-candy while I'm working.

"I'll be there," he assures me.

I smile again. I try not to blush. "Cool."

"Cool."

"I'll see you around, then."

"Right. See you around."

I back out of the parking space, shyly waving to him as I pass. I feel all light and tingly, and I can't figure out why. I tell myself it's a combination of the Whiskey Sours and forty-dollar steak.

Yes, that's what I tell myself.

* * *

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	4. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight.**

-x-x-x-x-

**Chapter 3 - I Could Really Use a Drink Right Now**

I try really, really hard not to think about Edward Cullen at work the following day. Or I should say _Dr. Cullen_, as that's what I've resolved to call him while I'm working. We may technically be dating now…okay, not technically...but I still need to keep things professional.

I actually don't even see him. He never said he was working today, so this shouldn't be a surprise. And I can survive _one_ _day_ without my eye candy. Because that's all he is. Eye candy.

Dr. Hale is covering today. She's nice to everyone, but a bitch to Emmett. I think it's pretty funny. Once she leaves, I even go on to Shelly about how nice she is, even though I know Emmett is sitting just a few feet away and is irked by every word. But he deserves it.

His little joke, while it helped me amend things with Edward, still wasn't cool.

He showed up for work this morning looking all excited and eager. And if there's one thing I've learned in the week I've known him, it's that he's never excited and eager about coming to work.

He wastes no time, spurred on by my remarks about Dr. Hale. "So how was the date the other day, Pockets? Was it love at first sight or what?"

He grins cheekily. He's such a sneaky little fucker. I should have known I couldn't trust him.

I huff as I glare at him. He stands up as if he's actually about to go do some work, or else move closer to annoy me more effectively, and I say, "You know, I can't decide on whether to punch you in the nuts or go straight for the jugular."

Not surprisingly, his hands immediately drop to cover what's most important to him. "What are you talking about?" he asks defensively.

"You think you're _so_ funny," I say calmly. It's not a question; at the very least, he has no problem entertaining himself.

"You don't?" he asks innocently.

"No. And you're dead to me right now, by the way." I stand and try to move past him, but his big oaf of a body blocks my way.

"What's wrong, Pockets? I heard you guys had a good time."

_Great_. Emmett and the hot doctor are talking about me again, and I still have no idea what they're saying. This isn't boding well for my paranoia.

"You guys aren't allowed to talk about me," I say sternly.

He scoffs and looks offended. "Well damn, you're _welcome_," he says sarcastically.

"Why the hell would I thank you? You went out of your way to set me up with my _archenemy_ of all people."

"Your archenemy, Pockets? Really? Did I get sucked into a comic book and wasn't aware of it? Is this your secret lair?" He makes an obnoxious point of looking around the nurses station.

I roll my eyes. "You knew we didn't like each other," I accuse.

"But you like each other now."

"So?"

"So you're welcome."

"You're infuriating."

"I don't see what the big deal is," he goes on. "Besides, it was Alice's idea, anyway."

_Hold the fuck up._

"Alice knew about this?" I hiss. My voice is deadly. She is _so_ lucky she's off today.

"Of course she did. That girl just cons me into doing all the dirty work. Plus, I thought it would be funny. And I was right, you know."

"It _wasn't_ funny. One of us could have died. We were _murderously_ angry." Maybe I'm exaggerating just a little bit, but he doesn't have to know this.

Emmett just shakes his head and chuckles. "That's not what _I _heard."

"Any chance you're gonna tell me what you heard, then?" I ask doubtfully, not getting my hopes up. I won't be able to believe any of it, anyway. Emmett's annoyingly unreliable that way.

"Well since you asked so nicely…yes. He happens to think you're cute," he supplies.

This shouldn't matter to me, but I'm pleased. Then I'm skeptical. "Whatever. You're probably lying."

He doesn't argue with me. In fact, he lets me pass, because there's a patient repeatedly pounding the call button like there's an impending apocalypse about to take place in room 422, and God forbid I don't get there right this second and adjust his bedside table before it occurs.

I wish Dr. Cullen was working today. Things are a lot suckier without my eye candy.

-x-x-x-x-

I call Alice when I get home and let her have it for that setup with Edward. I'm not displeased with the way things ended that night, but it's still the principle of the matter. She crossed a line.

"But you wouldn't have gone if I would have told you who it was," she insists. Her voice is kind of whiny when she argues.

"There's a reason I wouldn't have gone," I retaliate. "We don't like each other."

"Didn't. You _didn't _like each other. And I don't know," she sing-songs, "but I think I saw sparks fly in the hallway that day."

Is she crazy? We were five seconds away from having a throw down. Our blood pressures would have probably been worrisome. She did _not_ see sparks.

"You're crazy," I say flatly.

"Maybe so. But you said yourself that you guys are getting along now. So…you're welcome."

"You're so much like Emmett it's scary," I observe.

She solemnly agrees. "Trust me, I'm not proud of that fact."

I don't see Edward for the rest of the week. He must have several days off in a row; hospital schedules are often inconsistent that way. It doesn't surprise nor bother me. Those weird, uncontrollable thoughts are actually even starting to subside a bit in his absence, which is probably a good thing.

Today, my shackles are released, and I'm finally free of Emmett. Now he's forced to do his own work, so we don't see each other nearly as much as we did when I was his free labor.

Jessica has heard about my date with Edward. I'm not sure how, as she wasn't around when I was talking about it, but she's been giving me the stink eye all week. And once when a doctor – an unattractive one, mind you – was searching for a chart, it ended up being in my area and she picked it up with a huff and said, "Oh, _Bella_ has it. Maybe if you flirt with her a little, she'll give it up."

Thankfully, this doctor was just as arrogant as the rest of them, because he tuned her out and didn't appear to hear. _Thankfully._

Now that I'm on my own, things are going about as well as could be expected. I don't flounder in my work. I don't punch Jessica in the face or declare war against the rest of the doctors. In fact, I don't even think about Edward.

And then I see him.

I come out of a patient's room to find him already at the nurses station, flipping through a chart. His elbows are propped on the table, his hand in his hair as he absently scratches his head.

There are three lightbulbs on the ceiling directly above his head, but the one to his right has blown. It leaves that area a little dark while the other two bulbs create sort of a spotlight on him, making him appear like a glorified, illuminated sex-God.

All my progress in not thinking about him flies out the window. I actually get a little nervous. And excited. But mostly nervous.

I don't want things to be awkward between us, although I know I definitely need to acknowledge that he's here, so I grab my notes before plopping into the seat across from him. This way, I can pretend to chart while he's working and hopefully look less like a lusting spaz.

He looks up when I sit down. The bags under his eyes are less severe; perhaps he got some sleep on his days off.

"Hey," he greets cordially. At least he's not being an asshole again, which is secretly what I feared.

"Hey," I respond, just as pleasantly. "Have a few days off?"

I totally just admitted that I've been thinking about him. I've clearly noticed that he hasn't been at work. _Way to make yourself look like a total loser, Bella._

"I was off yesterday and the day before," he says, not acknowledging how pathetic I am. "I had to work second shift Monday and Tuesday. The ER was so packed both days that I didn't get a chance to make rounds until late in the evening." He looks up at me. "Guess you were gone when I got here."

So he was looking for me too? Why am I so pleased by this? And why am I still so damn nervous? This is ridiculous.

"Oh, well I was off on Tuesday. But yeah, I guess we missed each other Monday."

I'm a little disappointed by this, but don't say as much. Jessica is openly glaring at me from her little corner. It's kind of disconcerting.

"You work tomorrow?" I ask hopefully.

"Yep." He smiles, closing the chart. _So cute_. Why is he so cute? It's not fair. I want to hate him.

"Um…" he scratches his head again. "Do you know who's taking care of Mr. Brooks?"

I look on the board. It's Angela again. I'm almost afraid to say this.

He follows my line of vision and sighs. "Maybe I should just round alone this time." He stands, and I copy his movements.

"I'll go with you," I offer, and at his raised, doubtful eyebrows I add, "And I promise I'll keep my fat mouth shut. You won't hear a peep out of me. Nurse's honor." I hold up my hand like a girl scout and he smiles, clearly amused.

"Well if you want to discuss something _after_ we're out of the room, that would be okay."

I wonder what he really means by "discussing something." Probably nothing. I'm just a hopeful twat. God, I'm probably worse than Jessica right now, and this line of thought is clearly wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

We round. He's just as pleasant to the patient as before. He asks me if I'll tell Angela what's going on, and I nod.

Back at the nurses station, I sit down to talk to him again. I'm probably coming across as stalkerish now, but he doesn't seem to mind. He talks back and smiles and doesn't seem nearly as cranky as the other day. But maybe that's because I was true to my word and didn't call him out in front of people.

"So did you give Emmett a hard time?" he asks. "For tricking you?"

For setting me up with the hottest guy I've ever met, you mean?

"Well I wasn't _that_ hard on him," I insist. "I mean, you turned out to be halfway decent." I smile to let him know I'm teasing. Or is this flirting? God, I'm bad at this. And I should _not_ be flirting. Good-looking or not, I still don't date doctors.

"Is that right? Because I bought him a fruit basket. As a thank you."

"You did not," I say dubiously. Obviously, he's lying. But then again, he hangs out with Emmett. Who knows what I can believe. He might be just as crazy.

He just grins. I feel like I'm getting heart palpitations. I have no idea what's wrong with me.

Then one of my patients calls. She's complaining of chest pain. Great. What a fine time to have a potential heart attack. She only had all damn day, but _no_, she had to wait until I _finally_ see Edward again.

I sulk away. I check her out, order an EKG, call the doctor, and then we run a slew of other tests. It turns out to be fucking indigestion. And by the time it's all over, Edward has gotten a page and is gone with just a brief goodbye.

I sigh. At least I can look forward to tomorrow.

-x-x-x-x-

The next day, Emmett is working again. Annoying as he is, he's at least halfway entertaining. He makes the day go by faster. He's still going to get what's coming to him, mind you, but I've decided to spare his life.

The day starts out uneventful. I think about Edward Cullen the moment I wake up, and this disturbs me. I reason that I might need to find a new job. This little obsession with the eye candy is borderline distressing.

I have a young patient is room 412. She has a lot of mental issues – namely, she has major depression with personality disorder. She was sent to the psychiatric unit down the street after pouring hot grease all over her fiancé and then threatening to kill herself. She then began having pseudoseizures and, lo and behold, was shipped to us with a police escort.

She has a sitter in the room with her to make sure she doesn't kill herself. I managed to stay in her good graces most of the morning, but then, around ten o'clock, my day starts turning to shit.

She buzzes me into the room. When I enter, she's sitting straight up in bed, her hair a wild mess, and calmly says, "I want to go home."

"You can't go home," I tell her. I keep my voice pleasant. "The doctor has to release you. You're very sick."

This is only partly true, for she definitely won't be going "home." When she leaves here she's either going to another psychiatric hospital or jail, but I don't feel like it's wise to throw this in her face at the moment.

She gets irritated. "And where is my _doctor_? I haven't seen him the whole time I've been here!"

_Stay calm_. "He should be making rounds soon."

"You need to call him and tell him to come _now_. Otherwise, I'm leaving."

"He'll be in soon, Miss Smith. Just try to be patient."

That was the wrong thing to say. She starts screaming at me. "I've been fucking patient the whole fucking two days I've been here! I'm about to fucking leave, and I'd like to see you fucking stop me!"

She was actually admitted yesterday. I don't say this. I tell her I'll call the doctor and then slip out of the room, throwing a warning look at the sitter before I go. Emmett is walking down the hall towards me.

"Is everything okay?" he wonders, concerned. The whole floor probably heard the yelling.

"No," I grumble, quickly telling him what her deal is. Conveniently, she's Edward's patient. I feel weird calling him and asking him for stuff, but I suck it up and do it anyway.

Edward doesn't return my call as quickly this time. Emmett wants to go talk to the patient – to try and calm her down – but I assure him he's kind of intimidating and do it myself. I'm tired and irritated by the time Edward calls me back, and he doesn't seem to be much better off. But he's still pleasant…at first.

"Hey Edward, it's Bella," I say quickly.

His voice actually seems to brighten a little. "Hey Bella. How are you?"

"I'm good," I lie. I get straight to the point. "Your patient, Miss Smith, who was admitted yesterday for psuedoseizures, is starting to act up. She said a doctor hasn't seen her the whole time she's been here and she's threatening to get up and leave. She's getting kind of hostile."

Edward sighs and, after a brief pause, says, "Well I can't come right now. There are sick patients in the ER who actually _need_ a doctor."

I'm a little taken aback by his bluntness. This sounds more like the doctor I first met.

"Okay, well…what am I supposed to do?" I ask, irritated.

"You can give her a dose of Haldol if you need to. 2mg I.M. every six to eight hours PRN." When I don't say anything, he adds, "Would you like me to order some Ativan, too?"

"Right. Cause coming at her with a big-ass needle is going to go over real well," I say flatly.

Now he's irritated. "Well what do you want, Bella?"

"I want to know when you're coming to see her."

"_I don't know._ She's not my only patient. There are other patients down here who actually need medical assistance. You know, people who aren't here just acting out for attention."

"Well she's not my only patient either, _Dr. Cullen_, but it looks like I'm gonna be the only one dealing with her. All I'd like to know is what time I can tell her to expect you."

"_I. Don't. Know._" He's impatient. "I have to go, Bella. What do you guys usually do when a patient acts out? Call security if you have to. Have them restrain her if she gets violent."

Gosh, he pisses me off. I can't believe I actually thought he might be a nice doctor. They're all the fucking same. "_Thank you_, Dr. Cullen," I say maliciously. "I'll do that." I slam the phone back on its cradle before he can respond.

Lord, I'm probably gonna get fired. I don't know how much longer he's going to put up with me. But they can't _prove_ I hung up on him, can they?

I go back to see the patient. I tell her that he's busy with some patients in the ER and will be in as soon as possible. But she doesn't take this news well, and begins climbing out of bed.

"Tell him to forget it. I'm leaving."

_Crap._

I call security, then Emmett. Luckily, the patient makes a show of packing up her hospital shampoo and shit and isn't far down the hall when security races onto the floor. Emmett had offered to tackle her in the hallway, but I told him not to dare.

Security wrestles her back into her bed. She kicks and screams and fights every second of the way. Security holds her down while me, Emmett, and one of the nurse techs ties her down to the bed. She threatens to kick all of our asses.

God, I love my job.

After she's tied down, I pop her in the leg with that dose of Haldol Edward mentioned. She's not happy about it; she kicks and screams harder and louder and I'm sure the bed is going to break from her spaziness. The bed survives; the restraints do not. The one on her right wrist snaps like a rubber band and her sitter runs out of the room to tell me. The patient is in the process of untying herself with her free hand when I enter. Luckily, security hasn't even made it off the floor, and they come to my aid once again.

Emmett helps me tie her back down. I'm suddenly really glad he's here today, especially when he volunteers to call Edward back and notify him that she's being placed in leather restraints and shipped to the ER. I'm so aggravated that I doubt talking to Edward right now would be a wise idea. But I'm extremely pleased she's going to the ER – even if it is only because we can't use leather restraints on the floor – because now Edward won't be able to come up with another douchy excuse to not see her.

Emmett helps me push the bed downstairs. We're in the process of putting her in the leather restraints when Edward walks in. We both avoid eye contact with each other.

"Miss Smith," he says pleasantly, as though she's not struggling for her life on the bed and cursing out everyone within a fifty-foot radius. He has her chart in his hand. "What's the problem, Miss Smith?"

She's hysterical. The Haldol hasn't touched her. Emmett somehow manages to lose his grip on the wrist he's currently tying down and her fist comes flying in my direction, nailing me in my chin before I even realize what's happening.

She's not a small girl. Even if she was, that shit still probably would have hurt. Not to mention my pride at being decked right in front of Edward, though I'm not even sure why I'm thinking of him immediately after being punched in the face.

I stagger back a little bit, clutching my chin in shock. _God damnit._ All the men in the room jump on her flailing fist at once, including Edward.

I'm done. _Done_. I don't get paid enough for this shit. I walk out of the room, leaving the drama behind me. And I rapidly blink back the tears, not wanting to cry and look like a total baby.

I suddenly have a whole new respect for guys who get decked in the face because damn, that shit really hurts.

I stomp towards the ER nurses station to wait on Emmett and figure out what the hell I'm supposed to do now. I've never put a patient in leather restraints before. But before I make it there, I hear Edward calling my name. I ignore him until I feel his hand on my shoulder, and then I spin around, my wounded expression meeting his. The cursed tears that just won't go away are still filling my eyes.

"Christ, Bella. Are you okay?" Edward asks, worried. He's _too _worried. He reaches up to touch my chin, but I quickly turn my face away.

"I'm fine," I spit at him. "It didn't even hurt." That's a total lie. It _still _hurts.

Edward sighs and runs his hand through his hair. "You're mad at me again."

"Why would I be mad at you?" I sneer. It's meant to sound innocent, but it just comes out pissed. Yeah, I'm mad.

"Bella, I can't just leave sick patients to go see another one if it's not an emergency. You should know that."

I understand what he's saying, but I don't care. "Yeah, well. All I wanted was a time frame. Something to tell the patient. And I gave her your stupid Haldol. It didn't work, obviously."

He sighs again, exasperated. He's conflicted as he looks around the ER. "I want to talk to you about this, Bella, but I don't have time right now."

"That's too bad." There's no conviction to my voice. Edward looks a little wounded.

"Are you sure you're okay? From where she hit you?"

"I'm not made of glass, Edward. I'll be fine."

Someone begins calling him. He looks at me apologetically. "I've gotta go," he says. I just shrug as if I don't care. "I'll talk to you later?"

I don't confirm nor deny that this will happen. He gives me a sad smile before turning and briskly walking in the other direction.

Now that he's gone, I look around the place, and he's right – it really is a madhouse around here. But why couldn't he have just given me a time?

I sit down in a vacant chair, feeling exceptionally shitty about myself. _Perhaps it's because he didn't really know a time, Bella. Ever think of that? That maybe he's just being honest, and not a dick?_

It's so much easier to just assume he's a dick.

Emmett eventually steps out of the room. He's all sweaty – he's got pit stains that go halfway down his sides. And he looks just as annoyed and tired as I probably do.

"Are you okay?" he asks me, concerned. I quickly nod. The tears are gone now, thank gosh.

"I'm fine."

"Never a dull day at work, eh?" He's trying to make light of the situation, but I'm missing the humor. I _really_ don't get paid enough for this.

Apparently, I have to do a boatload of paperwork over this. And I still have to take care of the patient until shift change, which means I'll have patients on the floor _and_ in the ER. I'm not pleased about this, but the nursing supervisor sends us another nurse who takes most of my patients on the floor. I keep having to make trips back to the ER the rest of the day, and after awhile, I no longer see Edward here. He must be making rounds. I'm a little disappointed, because I was hoping it would slow down and we could talk some more and maybe I could apologize. I don't know when I'll see him again.

Apparently the Haldol _does _kick in, because Miss Smith zonks out and goes to sleep for a while. It's a relief. I go back up to the floor and try to catch up on my charting, but I'm so behind that I still end up getting off work late.

Emmett stays to help me. Yes, I'm definitely sparing his life now.

"I invited some people over for drinks tonight," he tells me. I'm charting furiously, trying to make up for lost time. "Wanna come?" When I hesitate, he quickly adds, "Come on, Pockets. Tell me you couldn't use a drink after this cluster-fuck of a day."

I sigh and nod. "Yes, I could definitely use a drink," I agree.

"Right. So you coming?"

I'm kind of tired. A part of me just wants to go home and go to bed.

"Alice is gonna be there," he informs me. "And I texted Edward earlier. He's coming, too."

I look up at Emmett. I shouldn't want to see Edward – I shouldn't care about apologizing – but I do. I should consider it a good thing that we're not getting along, because at least this tames my lusty thoughts a bit. But it's not a good thing. In fact, it's slowly eating me alive.

I finally sigh. "Sure, Emmett," I say. "I'll come."

* * *

**PRN - very common medical term which means "as needed"**

**I.M. - intramuscular, or a shot given in the muscle (like a flu shot)**

**pseudoseizures - resemble normal epileptic seizures, but they're brought on by high doses of stress or emotional turmoil**

**Haldol - an antipsychotic used to treat mental disorders which also calms down combative patients**

**-x-x-**

**I'll put brief descriptions of things in the A/N when I feel like it's not common knowledge, such as in this case. If you have questions about anything not mentioned then feel free to PM me.**

**ms-ambrosia beta'd and passionmama preread, because they're awesome. And oh my fucking gosh, thank you guys for the reviews. I love hearing what you think. Love love love. Love love. ****Hopefully everyone who reviewed got their EPOV outtake, but if I missed you somehow then just shoot me a PM or tell me in your next review or something.**

**I post teasers on twitter if you wanna follow - mybluesky1. I'm going to try to have the next chapter out early next week, but sadly, I still can't make guarantees. I'll keep you updated on twitter if you follow.**

**xoxo**


	5. Chapter Four

**A/N: First of all, let me say that passionmama helped so much with this chapter that it might as well be a collaboration effort. I'm vera vera grateful for her for prereading all the initial crap I send her. And of course, ms-ambrosia did a fabulous job betaing, as always.**

**About two or three people were concerned last chapter over what kind of doc Edward is since he didn't rush to Miss Smith's aid. In case more of you are concerned and just aren't saying anything, I'd like to reiterate that Edward is a hospitalist, not a psychiatrist. He was treating Miss Smith for her seizures, not her mental instability. She was going to be sent to a mental health facility after discharge for her mental problems, as those types of things are not normally treated in the hospital. I'm not really sure what you expected Edward to do for her...rushing to the floor just to repeat everything Bella said obviously wouldn't have made Miss Smith happy. I would be way more concerned if Edward left medically sick patient's in need of his attention to go tend to someone he can't even help. If she was seizing uncontrollably or something, then yeah, that would be completely different story.**

**Hope that helps.**

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

-x-x-x-x-

**Chapter 4 - Truce...Again**

Edward isn't at Emmett's house when I arrive. I don't say anything, because then Emmett will know that I'm looking for Edward and he'll probably start asking me a bunch of embarrassing questions. Or worse, he'll tell Edward I was looking for him, and that could give him some kind of leverage he doesn't need to have. So I remain painfully silent.

I meet Jasper before we leave work. He's tall and slim, with shaggy blonde hair and hazel eyes. He has an attractive smile and a cute Southern accent; he's also very friendly during the few brief moments that we see each other before we leave. He says he'll meet us at the house.

Alice is already there when we arrive. She must have a key or something. She's also already gotten into the liquor cabinet, which results in her slurring her words and stumbling around when she opens the door. She eye fucks Jasper for all of two seconds before launching herself at him, dragging him into the house by his hand. He follows willingly with a smile.

I guess Emmett was right about those two.

We move into the kitchen. There's music playing from somewhere. Lady Gaga. Emmett makes a face while he pulls ice from the freezer.

"If she thinks this shit is staying on, she's crazy." He looks at me. "What do you want to drink?"

"Um, whatever you're drinking."

"_I'm_ drinking a Jack and Coke. Light on the Coke, of course. I need something strong after that shit today."

Gross.

"Do you have juice or something?"

He opens the refrigerator and peers inside. "Orange and cranberry. No wait, hold on a second." He reaches inside, pulls out the orange juice container, and checks the expiration date. "Yep, orange and cranberry," he confirms.

"Do you have vodka?" I ask hopefully, and he nods and pulls out a half-empty bottle from the freezer. When I'm done mixing my drink, I carry it into the living room, observing Emmett's house along the way. It's cute, all things considered. It's small and simple, with just one level, but it has an easy layout and looks kind of new. The walls are white and void of any pictures or decorations – it definitely has bachelor pad written all over it – but it's not half bad.

Emmett, Alice, and Jasper are all hanging out in the living room. I join them, feeling kind of awkward, because they've known each other for so long and I'm the new girl. But Jasper eases this feeling by asking me a lot of questions.

"You liking it so far?" he wonders, and I nod, answering truthfully.

"Not including today? Sure." It's been an experience, that's for sure. There weren't any doctors quite as sexy as Edward for me to lust over at my last job.

"Of course she likes it," Emmett chimes in. "She got the best preceptor in the whole fucking hospital."

"Not to mention her date with Edward," Alice slurs, bouncing her eyebrows suggestively. I kind of want to die.

"You went on a date with Edward?" Jasper is curious.

"They _tricked_ me into a date with Edward," I clarify.

"Well I never got my 911 text!" Alice bellows. God, she's obnoxious when she's drunk.

Jasper chuckles, and just when I think things can't get any worse, there's a knock on the door. Everybody stops talking and laughing at once. It's almost as if a mute button has been pressed. Four heads pivot towards the door, but nobody stands up to answer.

_Oh my God, it's Edward. It has to be Edward. And my torture is fresh on everyone's mind, and they're going to humiliate me. In front of Edward. Oh my God._

I plan my escape route – I could dash for the back door, but I'm not sure where it is. Or I could run to the bedroom and hide under the bed, but if I get caught, I'll look like an idiot, which defeats the purpose of hiding to begin with. God, this sucks.

I don't have enough time to think about it, anyway, because Emmett loudly yells, "Come in!" and the front door is pushed open. And I sigh with relief – it's not Edward, but some tall guy with bleached hair wearing Khaki's and Jordan sandals. He's followed by a short girl with curly black hair who's wearing red scrubs. They're both greeted with enthusiasm, and my humiliation is, thankfully, placed on the backburner.

"Bella, this is Mike and Bree," Emmett introduces, and I stand up so that I can politely shake their hands. Mike smiles, and he's attractive enough, but his gaze lingers too long to be considered polite.

"Nice to meet you." I force a smile. I tell myself I need to be nice to him, at least at first, even if his stare is bordering on creepy.

"You too, Bella. Are you new?"

"As of two weeks ago, yes. You work at the hospital?"

"Yep. I'm a respiratory therapist," he supplies. "Bree is too."

Bree has already sauntered away towards the kitchen, seemingly disinterested in me or else needing a strong drink after work as well.

"She's not my girlfriend, though," Mike quickly adds.

_Oh dear God._

I nod as if that's interesting news, but not _too_ interesting, because I don't want him getting the wrong idea. Not that it would necessarily matter. He leaves to get a drink, asking me if I want one, but I point to my full glass and decline. Then I sit down and chug the entire thing, wondering where Edward is but still too much of a coward to ask anybody.

Mike takes it upon himself to make me a new drink once he sees my empty glass. He also takes it upon himself to sit beside me and make me suffer through idle conversation about the hospital and whether or not it's about to rain, which is probable considering it rains almost every day. And _damn_, the drink he made me is strong. It's more like a vodka on the rocks with a splash of cranberry, but whatever. I sip it and try not to grimace, and eventually the taste deadens and it's not so bad.

The tipsier I get, the less aware I am that Edward still isn't here, and the more entertaining Mike is. He eventually asks me if I want to go sit on the patio, which I accept. He's kind of nice once you become immune to the staring.

It's muggy outside, but the humidity is no worse than usual. We sit down and Mike reaches into his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and immediately lighting one up. I stare at him incredulously, and when he offers me one, I decline.

"Kind of an oxymoron, don't you think?" I ask humorously.

He blows out a puff of smoke. It kind of blows back towards us and gets in my face a little, which makes him apologize and turn in the other direction.

"What do you mean?" he asks. He gets that weird croaky voice that people get when they're in the middle of smoking a cig.

"You're a respiratory therapist and you're smoking."

He shrugs, as if missing my point.

"On the bright side, you'll already know how to administer your own breathing treatments once you get COPD," I go on.

He looks a little offended. "Quitting is harder than you think."

"I guess."

We're silent for a minute. It's quieter out here; I can hear the music from indoors, but it's muffled, as well as Emmett's obnoxious voice. It's kind of peaceful.

I'm still sipping my drink slowly, but I'm tired and it's hitting me faster than it normally would. I stare at the ground and imagine what it would be like to sleep there, and the idea is actually quite appealing at the moment. This is assuming I can't make it to a bed, of course.

Mike suddenly nudges my side with his elbow. "Wake up," he says playfully. I grit my teeth. How annoying. My eyes were open, jackass. Part of me thinks he just wanted an excuse to touch me.

I think of telling him that I just inhaled enough second-hand smoke to keep me going all night, but I'm tired and so I don't.

Then he says something that immediately has me wide awake with alarm. "So...Bella. Did you move here with a boyfriend?"

Oh dear God. Is this why he wanted to come outside? To get me alone so he could ask awkward questions?

I consider lying, but I figure he'll find out about it eventually. "No. I just got out of a bad relationship, so I'm kind of trying to get _away_ from boyfriend drama, if you know what I mean," I cautiously answer.

That's more than I ever wanted him to know, especially because he's now intent on prying for more information. "What kind of boyfriend drama?"

"It's a long story. I don't really want to talk about it."

He nods, stubbing his cigarette out on the ground. And he leaves it there, as a thank you to Emmett for the free booze and place to hang.

"Well you can always talk to me if you need to," he says seriously.

"Sure."

He turns to me. "You having fun here?"

I hold up the glass and swirl the ice, forcing a smile. "A blast."

"Good. We need to hang out more often."

I don't agree nor disagree, and he stands. "I'm going to go get another drink. You good?"

I nod. He disappears, and his absence is a glorious, glorious thing. I lay my head back against the seat, allowing the alcohol to sooth me and take away the fuckery of the day.

A few minutes later, I hear the sliding door open, then footsteps, but I don't open my eyes, thinking that if I pretend I'm asleep, maybe Mike will go away. I hear a drink being placed on the table beside me.

"Long day?"

My eyes pop open, and there he is, in all his glorious wonder. Dr. Fuck-me Cullen. He's sitting in Mike's seat, and he's in regular clothes, his hair slightly wet, sporting his signature crooked smile that makes me want to launch myself into his lap.

I sit up a little straighter. I suddenly realize what a mess I am; I didn't even reapply my makeup on the way over. Why the _hell_ didn't I reapply my makeup?

"You would know," I jab at him. "I was starting to think you weren't coming."

"Oh, so you were expecting me?"

"That's not what I said."

He smirks. "You don't _have_ to hate me, Bella. Not all doctors are mean and scary."

"Are we really gonna go there again?"

"I just came out to make friendly conversation. You're the one who keeps getting defensive."

"I'm not defensive, and I was _trying _to relax. I wasn't fantasizing over you or anything, as hard as that is to believe." I scoff, trying to make these words sound believable. But Edward smirks as though he sees right through me.

"You're right. And it looked like you were having a wonderful time with Mike, so I'll let you be."

He moves to stand up, but I grab his arm in a death-grip.

"If you leave me alone with Mike, _I will_ _kill you_." My voice is low in warning. As soon as the words leave my mouth, the glass door slides open, and I can see Mike's silhouette as he pauses in the doorway.

"Oh, hey Edward," he finally says. He doesn't seem thrilled that Edward is here, but nevertheless, he walks over and plops down in the chair to my right, the ice in his drink clinking noisily.

Edward seems equally perturbed by Mike's presence. He offers a mumbled "hey man" and then sips his own drink.

The silence that follows is probably the most awkward thing I've ever experienced, especially as I'm seated directly in the middle of it. I take bigger drinks, and it's watered down and still nasty, but it tastes a little better than before.

"So, uh…did you work today, Mike?"

My pathetic attempt to start a conversation is answered with a short, "Nope."

"I haven't seen you at work yet. I think I've seen Bree, though."

"I work in the unit a lot."

"Oh."

I hear crickets churping. Literally. Cicadas, too.

The back door suddenly slides open, hitting the stopper with a bang. "Mike! There you are! Come here, I want to show you something." Alice is so drunk. She doesn't wait for Mike to respond before she stumbles forward and grabs his arm, tugging him out of his chair.

"What is it?" he asks, his voice both curious and irritated. He follows her inside and the glass door slides shut behind them, muffling the music and closing us off from the house.

I'm immediately suspicious, of course. I know that little heathen is up to no good again.

But I forget all about it when Edward turns his body towards mine. "Alone with the hot doc again. How will you control yourself?"

I nearly spit vodka down my front.

"You did _not _just refer to yourself as a hot doctor," I state in disbelief.

"Your words, Bella."

"I _never_ called you that." That's a lie – I've called him that in my head a million times. But he doesn't know that...right?

Oh dear God, can he read my mind?

He sits back and sips his drink, looking completely self-assured. "On our date. You said people go to clinics to stare at hot doctors."

"I didn't mean _you_!" I say, aghast.

"So every doctor but me?" he questions, feigning offense.

"You don't even work at a clinic."

"But I'm a doctor."

"An annoying one, yes."

"So you don't think I'm hot?"

Gosh, he's a persistent little shit.

"Do you normally go around looking for a good ego stroking, or is this like a one-time thing?" I question, exasperated. There is _no way_ I'm admitting that I think he's hot. No. Way.

He shrugs and takes a large sip of his drink, clearly amused by my lack of composure over this conversation. "Just depends on my mood, I guess."

I glare at him.

"So how did you end up alone with Newton?" he asks me, moving the conversation to less threatening topics. I'm relieved and assume Newton is Mike's last name. Or maybe another annoying nickname courtesy of Emmett, which would kind of make sense in an ironic way, because Mike doesn't seem like the smartest person in the world.

I rub my chin, which is still a little sore. "Apparently, I suffered head trauma from that punch earlier."

Edward frowns, his eyes dropping to the spot I'm rubbing. "Are you okay?"

"Physically? Yes. Emotionally?" I hold up the ridiculously strong drink Mike made me. "That's what this is for."

He waves a hand in front of his face as if something smells. "Are you drinking pure vodka? I can smell it all the way over here."

"Mike made it for me. It has cranberry juice in it…I think."

"Is he trying to get you wasted?" he asks, frowning again. "Here. I can make you something better." He holds out his hand.

"It's not _that_ bad," I say, but I hand it over. He stands to enter the house.

"Just wait here a second," he instructs. "I'll be right back."

I'm itching to follow him, but I do as he asks. I'm a little worried that Mike is going to make a reappearance before he gets back, but I'm fortunate and Edward returns a short while later. His drink is much more colorful and smells much less revolting.

"Taste," he prompts, handing it to me. I bring it to my lips and it's _so_ much better, a little fruity with just a hint of alcohol. I nod my head in approval.

"You've outdone yourself," I say, smiling. "Very good."

"And now you won't be smashed before ten-thirty."

He sits down again. It's a two-seater bench, and his leg touches mine. I try to ignore the warmth that shoots through my body at having him so close.

"So where are you staying?" he asks me.

I look at him, confused. "Tonight?"

"No – do you have a house in Seattle?"

"Oh. No, I got an apartment. I don't need a lot of space. And I'm kind of starting from scratch right now, you know?"

He doesn't know – not really – but he nods.

"What about you? You live around?"

He nods again. "I live close by, actually. I have a house."

"You went home to shower?" I ask, though it seems obvious. His hair is wet and he's no longer wearing scrubs.

He rubs his neck and looks sheepish. "Yeah, I kind of, uh…got spit on today."

I crack a smile. I can't help it. "By your favorite patient?"

"The one and only."

Thank God for small favors. I'd much rather get punched in the face than be spit on. But on second thought, that punch _did _hurt...I'll have to think it over.

"What do you think Alice is doing to Mike right now?"

His face clouds briefly, then brightens again. "Who knows? There's never any telling with her."

"You still want to get Emmett back?" I ask hopefully.

Edward grins, but doesn't immediately agree. "What'd you have in mind?"

"I really like the idea of setting him up with Dr. Hale. We could say we're all gonna get together for drinks at a restaurant but then they're the only two that show up. Oh! We could even get a table in the back of the restaurant and watch. We could order appetizers."

Edward laughs. "And who's gonna get Dr. Hale to agree to go?"

"You are, of course. I barely know her."

"You do know she'll kill me when this is over with, right?"

I pretend to debate this. "So are you asking me if I consider you expendable?"

He shakes his head. "I don't want to know."

"You do make a pretty awesome drink."

His grin widens. He looks at me mischievously, his green eyes shining in the porch light. "You do realize you've complimented me twice in less than ten minutes, right?"

Oh shit, have I? I think about it. "I complimented your _drink_," I correct him.

"I _made _the drink."

"Well don't let it go to your head, because if that thing gets any bigger it won't fit through doorways," I tease.

He chuckles, and for a moment a companionable silence settles between us. We both sip our drinks. I try not to dwell on how his leg is still touching mine, yet it's practically all I can think about.

"I'm sorry about today," he says suddenly, breaking the silence. I look at him in surprise. "I probably got a little short with you. On the phone, I mean." He looks at me apologetically.

I suddenly remember that I'd planned on apologizing to him ages ago. I want to smack my forehead over my poor memory.

"I actually meant to apologize to you," I say, a little embarrassed. "You were busy and I was just irritated…and anyway, I shouldn't have hung up on you." I'm a little ashamed by this last part. What am I, fourteen? I haven't hung up on somebody since Brenda Newman called me a fat heifer in grade school. And she totally deserved much worse.

"I actually think you're the first nurse to ever hang up on me," Edward says, clearly amused by this.

I laugh, embarrassed. "Well you're the first doctor I've ever hung up on."

"Truce?" Edward asks, holding out his hand. I shake it with my free hand, and for some reason, I just can't stop grinning.

"Yes, truce. _Again_."

The door suddenly opens, and Emmett steps out. "Fuck, there you guys are."

He has a beer in his hand and he looks wasted. His voice is loud and carries.

"Calm down, Emmett. You're gonna wake up the whole goddamn neighborhood." Jasper follows him, looking relatively sober. But I guess someone has to take care of Alice – she has her arm wrapped around his waist, barely standing.

"Dude, it's ten-thirty. No ones asleep."

"My grandma goes to bed at seven," Alice giggles.

The crew files outside and takes seats around us, causing Edward and I to shift away from each other. I'm kind of disappointed, though I have no reason to be. But chatting with Edward was admittedly nice, as was being out of leering distance of Mike.

Everyone is talking and laughing and Emmett proceeds to put on a show, drunkenly demonstrating how I was punched in the face today. He pretends to punch himself in the face in slow motion and then falls into his chair dramatically, completely exaggerating the story. But everyone thinks it's hysterical, except Mike, who is overly concerned for my well-being considering I'm sitting here only hours later alive and well.

And Edward's leg is touching mine again. I'm fixated on this. I can't help it.

Alice starts complaining about the humidity. She and Jasper move inside and Emmett follows. It's me, Mike and Edward again, and rather than endure the awkwardness once more, I suggest we go in as well.

Alice is messing with the stereo. Once she finds a song she likes, she turns around and hangs on Jasper again. If I didn't know they weren't a couple, I'd swear they were freaking newlyweds or something. The sexual tension is revolting.

"Let's play a card game!" Alice says suddenly. She looks insanely excited over this. I'm not, however, considering I'm not great at card games and I'm sure it'll be a drinking game. The last thing I need to do is get trashed around Edward. Alcohol plus a hot doctor does not equal a wise Bella.

"I haven't been able to find my deck," says Emmett.

Alice doesn't believe him. She begins rummaging around in his closet, where I assume the cards are usually kept. "Well where did you put them?"

"Well fuck, Alice, if I knew that they wouldn't be lost!"

She huffs and continues looking. Edward disappears into the kitchen for another drink. I try to talk to Bree so that I can avoid conversing with Mike, and this turns out to be simple because she never shuts up.

"Ooh! Monopoly!" Alice exclaims, pulling the box from the closet. "I _love _Monopoly!"

She quickly coerces Jasper and Bree into playing with her. They set up on the floor. Edward sits back down beside me and whispers, "She could do this all night." His breath is hot against my ear and I shiver.

"Do you hang out with them a lot?" I ask him.

"Every so often, yeah."

I nod in approval. Most doctors are older and married, while others create such animosity with the nurses at work that the idea of hanging out together is laughable. But I'm discovering, little by little, that Edward isn't your average doctor.

Of course, things would be a lot less complicated if Edward snubbed me. At least then I wouldn't be warring with these mixed feelings I've found myself having all the time.

He leans towards me to whisper again, and I feel my heart rate increasing. "Mike is staring at you."

I immediately look over, and yes, Mike has the creepy thing going for him again.

I whisper back, "He has a staring problem. He's been doing that crap all night."

Edward laughs loudly, and then quiets down again. "You're right. But I can't say I blame him this time."

I look at Edward in surprise. Is he flirting with me? I feel my face heating, and Edward grins when I look away. I have no idea why he's affecting me this way. I've flirted with men before – this shouldn't be such a big deal.

"I have to use the bathroom," I say suddenly, excusing myself. I take the time alone to splash some cool water on my face and regain a little composure. Even if Edward did like me – which he probably doesn't – it still doesn't negate the fact that he's a doctor. And while he's being nice _now_, it doesn't mean it'll last the next time we're at work or he's getting a page in the middle of the night.

Holy Jesus ever loving Christ, did I just think about us spending the night together?

Crap. I need to snap out of this, quick. I can't keep having these thoughts about Edward – it's not right and it's certainly not boding well for my mental stability. I've never felt more undone.

When I eventually reenter the living room, it's to find Emmett on the floor racking up the monopoly money. Bree is nowhere to be found.

"Hey Pockets, we're having a mass monopoly tournament. We're playing teams, real money. You in?"

I've played lots of monopoly in my day, but the thought of using real money causes me to hesitate. I don't normally carry around cash, and I've yet to get a paycheck. "I only have like twenty dollars on me," I say.

Edward's behind me, his warm hand on my shoulder. "I'll buy you in, but you have to be on my team," he says.

"I can't let you buy me in."

"It's no problem," he says with a grin. "I never lose at this game."

It's his wink that wins me over.

I don't know how I'll make it through the night.

-x-x-

It's over two hours into the game, and Edward wasn't kidding when he says he always wins. He's got strategy. We already have a shit-ton more property than everyone else and have bankrupted Emmett twice; both times, Edward accepted articles of Emmett's clothing in lieu of money for rent, and Emmett is now playing in just a pair of jeans. We're all drunk and carrying on and having a great time.

Edward whispers his strategies in my ear a lot. I've gotten used to this. I've learned to just accept this feeling inside of me – it feels good, and no harm is coming of it. So why wear myself out fighting it?

His shoulder brushes mine a lot, too. I don't know if he's tipsy or doing it on purpose, but I'm fully aware that his property-purchasing decisions are a bit too meticulous to be coming from a drunk guy.

I roll the dice. Edward wants one of Emmett's properties.

"No way, doc. I'm already freezing my ass off over here. You're not taking the one piece of shit house I own, too."

"You're practically out of the game anyway, Emmett. Now what do you want for it?"

It doesn't take Emmett long to decide. "_Your_ clothes."

Edward doesn't hesitate to start ripping off his shirt. He's got monopoly domination on the brain. He tosses it to Emmett, who turns to look at me expectantly.

"Well? You're a team, Pockets. Let's have it."

My face flushes. "I'm not taking off my shirt," I say defiantly. I'm a little peeved that I'm suddenly being provoked this way – I'm now too flustered to appreciate the shirtless doctor sitting less than a foot away from me. Plus, there's no way in Hades I'm about to show Edward my dingy white work bra that I bought from Macy's three years ago. This stupid bra has been used more than Paris Hilton.

"Then it's no deal," Emmett says. He looks like he expected this type of reaction from me all along.

I can tell Edward wants to persuade me, but he doesn't dare.

"What?" I hiss at him. "You already own like ninety-percent of the houses in the stupid game."

"_We _own them, Bella. And we're going for domination. Once we get that property we'll be able to wipe out Jasper and Alice in no time."

This actually seems like a good idea, except for the damn bra I just _had_ to wear today. It's not the worst bra I own, at least. And thankfully it isn't that sports bra with the hole in the boob.

Thank God for small miracles.

"You owe me if I do this," I say, daring him to argue. He nods in agreement and I must be tipsier than I thought, because I'm suddenly pulling my scrub top over my head and chucking it at Emmett before I can chicken out. Emmett catcalls as it hits him in the face.

"Whoo! Take it off, Pockets!"

Edward's eyes fall south and linger just a tad bit too long. I don't know if he's staring at my hideous bra or my cleavage, but he makes it a point to look away and refocus on the game.

Of course, Mike is leering at my chest obnoxiously, his gaze creeping me out from all the way across the room. He's practically hypnotized by the tatas, which I know are nice, but not _that_ nice, and I wrap my arms across my torso in a pathetic effort to hide myself.

Emmett turns and notices his stare. "What the fuck, dude? You look like you've never seen a pair of tits before."

Mike looks rightfully mortified. "What, man? I wasn't doing anything."

Edward doesn't meet my gaze, but he's grinning as Emmett says something as equally derogatory as before. I'm blushing furiously, but I still manage to take a moment to check out Edward's chest. It's lean and hard, but not bulky like Emmett or flabby like a lot of doctors. He definitely takes care of himself, and it shows.

Then he catches me staring. "Like what you see?" he asks in a low voice, careful to keep the conversation between us.

I'm embarrassed, but I try to play it off with an eye roll. "Like what _you_ see? I saw you checking out the tatas." The tatas are still appropriately covered by my arms, but nonetheless, his gaze drops again at their mention. He clears his throat and quickly looks away.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Alice was watching our exchange. She huffs and reaches across the board for the dice. "Well I gotta say, as dedicated as you two are to winning a bunch of tiny houses, you won't be getting _me_ shirtless."

"Nah, I'll leave that up to Jasper," Edward replies knowingly. Jasper sips his drink innocently, making no comment. "And it's not about tiny houses, it's the thrill of winning _and _taking all your money."

Without moving my arm from my chest, I lean forward and take a long sip of my drink, wondering if I'll have to play the remainder of the game shirtless. It's a little chilly in here, and I'm almost certain my nipples are hard and visible through the thin material of the bra. I wonder if I can manage rolling the dice without moving my arms. Maybe I'll have Edward put them in my mouth and just spit them at the board. Yeah, that could totally work.

Now that Emmett's out of the game, he gets bored and wanders away. We're already at such an advantage that it doesn't take long before we bankrupt Alice and Jasper and win the game. I immediately snatch up my shirt and throw it back on.

Edward is grinning once I'm redressed, his eyes meeting mine. "I gotta say, I've played about a million games of monopoly in my day, but that was probably the best one."

I roll my eyes and shove him.

"What?" he asks defensively, the stupid cheesy smile never leaving his face. "We got really lucky. We won almost three-hundred bucks."

So the free peep-show had nothing to do with it? _Right. _Well I'd be lying if I said having Edward shirtless didn't make the game better for _me_.

"_You_ won almost three-hundred bucks. I never put in anything," I remind him.

"I let you _borrow_ the money, and now you've paid me back. So half of this is yours."

Alice and Jasper have already dispersed – they've probably sought out an empty bedroom somewhere – but I still feel a little weird taking the money. No one seems upset with their loss, but the most I ever gambled for back in Jacksonville was twenty dollars and a night alone with my date at the apartment I shared.

Edward senses my hesitation. "If you really don't want it, I can always hang onto it and we can go out and have some fun with it. Their treat, of course." He nods in the direction of the hallway, indicating our three friends that have disappeared.

I shake my head. "Sorry, but I don't date doctors."

Edward is unaffected by my declaration. "Then who did I go out with last Saturday?" he wonders, pretending to be confused.

"That was a setup," I remind him.

He looks at me skeptically, not convinced by my excuse. "And why don't you date doctors?"

I can feel my adrenaline pumping. This entire conversation is making me nervous.

"You know why."

He shakes his head. "Enlighten me."

I just shrug, feeling my face heating again. I think I've blushed more tonight than I have in my entire life.

He leans close to me and murmurs, "Well I happen to think I can get you to change your mind."

My face gets hotter. I'm damn near close to changing my mind right now.

"Good luck with that, Dr. Cullen."

"It's not a date, anyway," he goes on. "I never said it was. I meant just hanging out as friends." He looks at me. "We can be friends, right?" I note the hint of sarcasm to his tone.

"I guess there's nothing in the rules that says we can't be friends," I agree, but I'm still wary of the situation. Hanging out all night or day or whatever he's planning seems innocent enough, but that really depends on the state of his hair and what he's wearing. I've recently discovered that my body will betray me in a hot minute if I'm not careful.

"Good," he says, packing away the remainder of the game, and I tell myself I can overcome anything with just a bit of prep talk and courage.

But that's before I'm overcome with exhaustion, and it's before he takes away my car keys and tells me I'm sleeping in the spare bedroom with Alice tonight. She's already passed out beneath the covers, slightly comatose and undisturbed by our talking. Edward helps me take off my shoes and I rip off my top, figuring it's nothing he hasn't already seen before. But I really don't want to sleep in my scrubs.

"Where are you sleeping?" I ask him drowsily.

"At my house."

I'm disappointed, though I really have no right to be, especially considering how I told him I don't date doctors.

"Are you leaving?"

"In a minute, yes." I can hear the smile in his voice. He smooths my hair away from my face with his hand, and it feels good.

"You need to get some rest, Bella. You had a long day."

"You need to get some rest too," I mumble weakly.

I feel his lips against my forehead, and I don't want him to leave. I don't know when I'll see him again – I don't know if he works the next time I work or that I'll see him even if he does. And the promise of his prolonged absence leaves me feeling empty, and strange, and I don't understand any of it.

I take a deep breath and smile at him, because it's all I really know to do. All I know for certain is that it's okay to smile. "Goodnight, Edward."

The corner of his lips quirks up. The bed shifts as he stands. "Sweet dreams, Bella."

* * *

**A/N: I'm aware that once you bankrupt someone in monopoly, the game is over. They changed the rules since they were gambling, jsyk**

**I'm probably going to write another EPOV to send out with reviews next chapter, so let me know if there's a particular scene you want to see. And as always, I love hearing what you think :)**

**I'm mybluesky1 on twitter.**

**xoxo**


	6. Chapter Five

**Disclaimer - Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

-x-x-x-x-

**Chapter 5 - The Trials and Tribulations of Ignoring a Hot Doctor**

"I saw you had to be precepted by Emmett."

Dr. Hale walks beside me in the hallway as we return from making rounds. We both look at each other as she waits for a response.

"Uhh…yeah, I did," I stutter.

"I'm sorry."

I shrug. "He wasn't bad." She nods and is silent. "You don't like Emmett?" I hedge, though I'm already aware that she doesn't. Or at least I don't think she does. I just have a sneaky inclination to try and discover some more information about them.

She stops and turns towards me. "Why wouldn't I like Emmett?" Her tone is accusatory.

"I was just wondering…"

"I like Emmett just fine, Bella. I don't know what he's said about _me_, but I wouldn't believe everything you hear."

"He hasn't said anything about you," I quickly lie, but she's unconvinced. She pauses and peers at me a moment.

"Yeah, I'm sure he hasn't," she finally says, and she turns and walks away, leaving me standing alone and slightly confused in the hallway.

-x-x-

There's a small room in the back of the nurse's station where I sometimes go to catch up on charting. It has a computer so that I can check orders and it's quiet, with no ringing phone or constantly buzzing call-light. It's peaceful and offers a reprieve on an otherwise crazy day.

I'm here now, writing furiously so that I can get out on time tonight. It seems as though getting off work on time has been a rarity lately.

The door opens but I don't look up. I assume it's a coworker coming to wash their hands in the sink that's behind me.

"Oh! Hey…I didn't realize you were here today."

My head snaps up and I quickly turn to find the gorgeous bright green eyes I've come to love. They're accompanied by a half-smile, and he holds the door open while his other hand clutches a chart.

I smile at him, and it's not forced or fake the way it is with other people. "Hey Edward."

"You care if I join you for a minute? I just need to dictate a discharge summary real quick."

"Sure." I slide my chair over to make room and he pulls out the other seat beside me. He smiles at me again before flipping open the chart, and I can already feel my heart beat racing. This feeling I get around him is maddening.

"I haven't seen you in a few days," he notes, and I find myself strangely happy that he's even noticed my absence.

"Yeah…I've been off," I casually reply.

"Do anything special?"

"Nah. I got everything unpacked, finally." This is true. Aside from the one lunch I had with Alice, I mostly spent my time unpacking and lazing around. I went shopping for new table lamps once but came home empty handed.

"Well, that's something," he says. He picks up the phone, but then he puts it down again and turns to me. "Been thinking about our date much?" He cocks a suggestive eyebrow and I sigh.

"It's not a date, Edward."

"Then what would you like to call it?" he asks, clearly amused.

"We don't have to _call _it anything."

He's got that damn knowing smirk again. "Mmm hmm." He picks up the phone and begins dialing, but I quickly press my finger against the hang up button.

"Do you enjoy torturing me?" I ask him.

He can barely hide his grin. "I do, actually."

"Well I don't enjoy it. And you're not as irresistible as you seem to think you are." I'll be surprised if that sounds even halfway believable. Edward is undeterred, his eyes flicking back to mine.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Bella. I never implied I was irresistible."

He's messing with me, and I don't like it.

Or maybe I do like it.

_Freaking hell_.

"Are you going to let me dictate?" He looks from me to my finger, which is still pressed firmly against the button.

I narrow my eyes at him, as though suspicious, and he narrows his right back. Then I release the button. He looks at me a few more seconds before finally dialing again.

I pretend to chart while he dictates, but I'm actually hanging on every word he says. Even if he is talking about someone's resolving UTI and bedsores. I don't care.

His voice is…soothing. It's smooth like silk, yet still deep and even a little gravelly at times. It's one I would have enjoyed listening to during school. Maybe if he was an instructor, the students would have paid more attention.

On second thought, they'd probably be obsessing over how fuck hot he looks all the time. The girls would be drooling over him and the guys would be pissed because Edward would be all they talked about. Then they'd get jealous and talk about him behind his back and maybe key his car or something. Or _maybe_ they'd look up to him like some sort of godly icon.

My ludicrous thoughts are interrupted when Edward hangs up the phone.

"Alright, I guess that's it. See you later." Edward pushes his chair back without further adieu and I'm left surprised and admittedly disappointed.

"You're leaving?" I blurt, and I instantly blush at how desperate I sound. I'm awful at appearing nonchalant about this.

Edward looks back at me, and though he doesn't smirk, I can still see the mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Disappointed?" The crooked grin is back.

I look down at my notes, feeling embarrassed and frustrated. It's obvious that he affects me, and I hate that he can see this so easily.

"No. It's fine. I'll see you later, I guess." I'm trying to act like I'm unbothered – like I could care less – but Edward sighs and sits down again.

"I was just trying to prove my point," he tells me.

"Your point?"

"That you like me."

"Obviously I like you, or else I wouldn't have let you into my office."

Edward snorts and looks around. "So this is your office now?"

"It has a computer, doesn't it? And it's where I get my work done. When I'm not being bothered, of course." I look at him pointedly.

"I'm pretty sure it's a dictation room," he says evenly.

"I'm pretty sure you're wrong." I smile at him sweetly, and suddenly he's leaning in close again.

"You just admitted that you like me," he observes.

I roll my eyes and look away, though I'm painfully aware of his close proximity. My heart feels like it's going to rip through my chest.

"I think our definitions of 'like' vary," I point out, and my voice wavers just a little. I don't look at Edward, because I'll probably die if I see him smirking at me again. I can't keep surviving this sort of humiliation.

He thinks about what I've said. "Maybe so. But it doesn't matter. You have two days to decide on what we do on our date."

"Or?" I chance a peek at him.

"Or else," he warns.

I hold back a laugh. I'm pretending to be serious. "I'm not sure I like your ultimatum, Dr. Cullen."

"I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to like it."

Talking to him is fun. _Too _fun. And just when I'm about to say something else about whether it's an actual date or not, his pager goes off. He checks it, meets my eyes briefly, then picks up the phone to return the page.

"This is Dr. Cullen. I was paged."

He sounds pleasant enough, and I remain silent. He peeks at me several times while he talks and gives an order. I have to bite my lip to hide a smile.

He eventually hangs up the phone, and a silence lingers in the air.

"I should probably get back to work," he says after a minute. "They need me to put in a central line on the third floor."

I smile at him. I'm a little disappointed. "Well I'm sure you can see yourself out of my office."

His returning grin is breathtaking. It makes me want to do things to him that I shouldn't even be thinking about.

"I'm sure I can. It's a pretty small office. A little stuffy."

"It's only stuffy because of who's in it. Now get out of here so I can breathe." I shoo him away with my hand and he's still grinning as he stands to open the door.

"Well it's nice to know I can leave you breathless," he says cockily. "You have two days!"

He leaves before I can reply, and my smile lingers in his absence.

-x-x-

I get a text from an unknown number later in the afternoon. My phone vibrates in my pocket and I fish it out.

_Still thinking about me?_

I stare at the message for a minute. I have a feeling it's Edward, or else a wrong number. Who else would it be? But I can't be sure.

I think over my response, and finally reply.

_Andrew?_

The response comes just seconds later.

_Who's Andrew?_

_Whoospie. That's the other doctor I don't like._

_Funny. Who do you dislike more?_

_You, of course._

_I'm honored._

I pull medications and go see my patients before I respond again. It's at least twenty minutes later, but I haven't received another text.

I type out another message. _How did you get my number?_

His returning message takes a while. _Wouldn't you like to know_.

_Yes, I would._

_Too bad._

_Then stop texting me._

_No._

_Then I'm ignoring you._

_You can't ignore me, Bella._

_Watch me._

_Told you._

Shit. He got me. I put my phone in my pocket, and even though I feel it vibrate again a few minutes later, I struggle to ignore it.

My willpower only lasts a few minutes. I figure I can read the message without responding.

_Guess I am pretty irresistible._

Damn, I _really_ want to respond to that. But I don't. I'm ignoring him.

Ignore, ignore, ignore.

Why is ignoring someone so hard?

Because it's not just _someone_, genius, it's Dr. Fuck-me Cullen.

Damn him and his fuckable hair. Yeah, I'm so ignoring him. I even put my phone in my locker so I won't be tempted.

Take _that_, Dr. Fuckable.

-x-x-

"Has Dr. Cullen been nice to you lately?"

Angela glances over at me from her place at a computer. It's the following morning and I'm still not fully awake; I didn't sleep well and then overslept, which means I didn't have time to drink any coffee.

"I think he's avoiding me," she answers. She doesn't seem upset, just resigned.

"Maybe he's just been busy," I offer.

She shrugs. "Maybe."

I rub my eyes. They just won't stay open. No matter how long I do this, I don't think I'll ever get used to waking up this early.

"I really need some coffee," I mutter.

I don't see Emmett standing beside me until he speaks, and his loud voice makes me jump. "I'm sure if you ask Edward nicely he'll get you some coffee from the doctor's lounge. They have the best coffee maker in the whole fucking hospital. Better than the cafeteria, even." He winks at me.

"I'm not sucking up to Dr. Cullen," I retort.

"He's Dr. Cullen to you now?"

"Yes. No," I stutter. "I'm at work, Emmett. He's a doctor."

"Not _your_ doctor. Besides, you've already seen each other naked."

I gasp, my eyes immediately flying to Angela. She's still staring at the computer, either not paying attention or else pretending that she doesn't hear.

I punch Emmett on the arm. He's unfazed. "Shut the hell up, Emmett," I hiss. "You're going to have people thinking I'm sleeping around with him."

"What?" he asks innocently. "Seeing someone naked and sleeping with them are two completely different things."

"Just _shut up_."

Jessica walks into the nurse's station a few minutes later. Thankfully, Emmett doesn't say anything else to embarrass me, and I assume I'm in the clear since Jessica doesn't glare at me any more than usual.

Sucking up to Edward for a good cup of coffee seems wrong. Well, not really, considering I'd do pretty much anything for coffee. But I'm supposed to still be ignoring him.

He'd texted me again last night, just to ask if I was still ignoring him. I ignored him in response, and then he said goodnight. And then that made me think about the night he tucked me into bed, and suddenly I had an awful time trying to fall asleep.

So really, this is all his fault.

He _owes _me coffee.

I pass my morning medications and open all my notes before I text him. I'll be taking a hit to my pride, but like I said, I'll do anything for coffee.

_I hear the doctor's lounge has good Joe, _I text him.

His response takes a while. I get worried I'm going to pass out somewhere and almost resign myself to the shitty coffee in our nourishment room.

_I see you're not ignoring me now. Is coffee the way to your heart?_

I text him back.

_Just answer the question, Cullen._

_Some people say it's the best coffee in the hospital…_

_Is that what you say?_

_Yep._

_I'll stop ignoring you if you get me a cup._

_You've already stopped ignoring me._

_Then I'll ignore you again._

_You can try._

_What do you want, Edward?_

_I want an answer about our date._

_That's it?_

_That's it._

_You'll get an answer when I get my coffee._

_You'll get your coffee when I get my answer._

_You're infuriating._

_Meet me there in thirty minutes._

_What? Just bring me a cup._

_There's about 50 flavors. I don't know what you want._

_Just pick something good._

_No._

_Am I even allowed in there?_

_Yes. I'll see you in thirty minutes._

_Fine._

I do some more work and then casually ask Alice if she'll watch my patients for a few minutes. She looks at me with interest.

"Where are you going?" she asks.

"Oh…um, to get some coffee." I purposefully leave out where I'm getting the coffee and, more importantly, who I'm getting it with.

"Will you bring me back a cup?"

"Sure, what do you want?"

"Just a regular cappuccino. There's a machine to the right when you enter the cafeteria."

"Okay. Be back in a minute." I smile and disappear onto the elevator. I'm not exactly sure where the doctor's lounge is. I remember seeing it on the tour of the hospital; I just can't remember _where_.

I walk around a few minutes before texting Edward again.

_I can't find it._

_Where are you_?

_I don't know. On the first floor somewhere._

I look around, trying to find some kind of landmark. Damn, this hospital is confusing. Why do I have to suck at directions so badly?

I turn around and make my way back to the elevators so I can tell him where I am. I pause in front of the doors so that I can call him, but before I get a chance to find his number there's a deep voice in my ear.

"You make it really hard to give you directions."

I jump and spin to face him, my hand clasping at my chest.

"Jesus Christ! You scared the crap out of me."

He grins, and at this rate my heart will never slow down again.

"Sorry." He puts his hand on my shoulder and begins leading me away. "A damsel in distress needed rescuing."

"I'm not a damsel. And I would have found it…eventually."

He leads me down a long hallway and we stop in front of a door. He has to scan his name badge before it will open, and I smirk.

"Very top-secret-like."

"Nah, we just have to protect our awesome coffee," he says.

"I've heard it's the best," I say as we enter. The first thing I see is a bowl full of Mt. Andes mints right by the door. "Holy mother of mints, no wonder you doctors are such brats. They spoil you!"

"Get some if you want," Edward urges, and the temptation is too great. I grab a handful.

"Are you sure I won't get in trouble for being in here?" I ask. I quickly unwrap some candy and pop them into my mouth.

"They say you can bring guests. You, Bella, are my guest."

The small hallway opens up to the rest of the lounge and, yes, these assholes are definitely spoiled. There's a salad bar to my right that's also chocked full of muffins and bagels and fruit. To my left is a stand full of chocolate milk and juices and sodas and then, just beyond that, is the wondrous coffee maker I keep hearing about. The place is large and open with lots of tables and leather seats and there's a flat screen TV on the opposite side of the wall.

Yeah, I'm a little jealous. This almost makes med-school seem worth it.

"Geez, I don't think I'd ever leave this place," I say. Something on the counter catches my eye and my face lights up. "Cookies! Christ, now I'm _really_ jealous!"

Edward chuckles, then he turns and leans an elbow on the coffee machine, effectively blocking my way to it.

"Are you gonna give me an answer about our date?" he asks. Such a sneaky doctor.

"Oh, I see," I snort. "You're gonna block the coffee machine until I answer all your crazy questions."

"Pretty much."

"Fine. What do you want to know?"

"First of all, what are we doing? Second of all, is Friday night good for you?" He raises his eyebrows at me, patiently waiting for an answer.

"Well you see, Dr. Cullen, I'm more of a 'live in the moment' type of girl. I don't plan everything out."

"So you'd probably prefer if I just plan everything out and surprise you then?"

"That's not what I said." I lean against the counter and cross my arms. We could be here a while.

"But spontaneous people tend to like surprises."

"I like to be in control of my spontaneity."

"I see."

"Maybe I'm still thinking about it."

"You were supposed to have an answer before I gave you coffee." And suddenly he's looking like he's not going to give me coffee. And suddenly I'm wondering if a knee in the groin would take him down.

"I'm off on Friday. So…that's good for me. We can go out early if you want. Or late. I don't care. I can't really think straight without my coffee, Dr. Cullen."

He smirks and finally pushes away from the machine. "I guess that'll do for now."

"Thank you." I move to stand in front of it, but after a few moments of looking it over, I'm lost. Christ, this thing is complicated. Definitely not your average coffee maker. And he's right – there are about twenty drawers with different flavored packets inside.

I begin looking through the flavors. "How the hell do you work this contraption?"

Edward rolls his eyes, but he's teasing. The smile says it all. "I assumed you could handle making a simple cup of coffee."

"This is anything but simple, Edward."

"What flavor do you want?"

I take my time sorting through them. "They have Milky-Way flavor?" I ask, excited.

"Is that what you want?"

"No." I pause. "Fine. Yes, I do."

"Okay, so you get the milky-way and a regular coffee packet. Do you want mild or medium?"

"Mild or medium?" I ask in disbelief. "I want bold, Cullen. You're not speaking to an amateur coffee drinker here."

"Oh really? Because I'd expect a _professional _coffee drinker to know how to do this."

"Look, we didn't all grow up with fancy coffee machines and Milky-Way flavor packets, okay? Now just make the damn coffee."

He grins and puts both packets into the machine before hitting a few buttons. He puts a cup underneath the spout and, seconds later, steaming Joe is pouring out. It smells like heaven and I bet it tastes even better.

"Oh my God, I love you," I say, taking the cup. I coddle it in both hands like my first-born and Edward cocks an eyebrow at me. "I was talking to the coffee, not you," I say pointedly.

"Whatever you say."

I add sugar and take a sip. Yes, it's wonderful, blissful, Milky-Way heaven.

"Any chance this thing can make a cappuccino?" I ask hopefully.

After we make Alice's coffee, Edward grabs two cookies and we sit down at a nearby table. The TV is on the news and the noise drones on in the background. We're the only people in here, which is good for my nerves. I'd probably be insanely paranoid if other doctors were here leering at us.

"Where is everybody?" I wonder. "I'd be here all the time if I was a doctor."

Edward shrugs. "They come in and out. They do still have to work, you know," he teases. "Otherwise, they won't be a doctor for long."

"I know that." I drink my coffee and eye his desert. "Is that cookie for me?"

"There's a whole plate of cookies over there, Bella."

"But you brought two!"

"Because I eat two." To prove a point, he pops an entire cookie into his mouth. He tries to smile at me around his mouthful and I roll my eyes.

"Have some manners. We're going on a date in a few days."

When he swallows he says, "So you agree it's a date?"

"No. It's an outing. But the only way to get you to leave me alone about it is to just call it a date."

He gestures at my drink. "Let me have a sip of your coffee."

I pull the cup towards me protectively. "No. You wouldn't share your cookie."

"Don't be greedy, Bella. You have a whole cup. I only have two cookies."

"Two cookies, two people."

"There's a whole plate over there."

"There's also a coffee machine over there."

Edward sighs and seems to consider this before smiling mischeiviously. "You share yours and I'll share mine."

I cock a suspicious eyebrow at him. "Are you still talking about your cookie?"

His expression matches mine. "What else would I be talking about, Bella?"

I look at him warily, but when he slides his cookie across the table on a napkin, I happily pick it up before giving him my coffee.

"Mmm. Thank you," I say between a mouthful of deliciousness, and Edward smiles.

My stupid heart just won't slow down.

-x-x-

"God, took you long enough," Alice complains as I hand her the cappuccino. "I had to reset two of your pumps and I've got Mr. Drinkard up in the bathroom."

"Thank you for watching them. I owe you," I offer.

"Yeah you do."

I sit at the table across from her. I can already imagine the wheels turning in her mind – the scenarios in which she plans to sneak away with Jasper for half an hour to talk 'medicine.'

She takes a sip of her cappuccino and frowns. And then suddenly, her eyes light up.

"This is from the doctor's lounge!" she exclaims.

I nearly choke on my own coffee in shock. "What? No it isn't."

"Bullshit. I'd know the difference anywhere. Who got you this?"

My face is hot. I resist fanning it and instead try to busy myself by looking in a chart.

"No one. I bought it."

"You're such a bad liar," she scoffs. When I don't say anything, she holds out her hand for my coffee. "Let me taste yours."

"What? No." I pull it out of her reach.

"Why? What flavor is it?" she taunts me.

"Coffee flavor."

"You're _such_ a bad liar. You'd laugh if you could see what a terrible liar you are. You went with Edward, didn't you?"

"_Fine_, yes. I went with Edward." I glare at her. "Are you happy now?"

"_I knew it_." She sits back in her chair and holds her coffee while staring off into space. And she looks _too _happy. So happy that it's starting to make me a little uncomfortable. "Well it's no surprise. You guys were all over each other at Emmett's," she observes.

"We were not." _Were we?_ I pretend as though what she's saying doesn't bother me. She was drunk anyway – how the hell would she know? I try to focus on reading my orders.

"Denial, denial, denial." She tsks me, and then finally, she releases a long, contented sigh. "You two are gonna have such beautiful children."

This time I really do choke on my coffee.

**

* * *

****Muchos thanks to ms-ambrosia and passionmama for all their hard work with this story. I love you guys. And thanks so so much to everyone for reading and reviewing.**

**You can follow me on twitter at mybluesky1 for teasers.**

**Majority rules - reviewers get an EPOV outtake of the strip-monopoly game last chapter! **

**xoxo**


	7. Chapter Six

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight.**

-x-x-x-x-

**Chapter 6 - A Lovely Day for an Outing**

It's ten a.m. and the day is already long.

I set a chart on the ledge of the nurse's station and flip through it in hopes of finding some dressing change orders, but the damn thing is crammed so full that it's wider than my body and ready to burst apart at any second. I must have a month's worth of orders to sort through.

And then a cup of coffee suddenly appears in front of me.

"Some Milky Way Joe?"

My disbelieving eyes meet Edward's, and I hastily take the coffee from him. I'm torn between being extremely grateful for this unexpected cup of heaven and letting him have it for treating me like a girlfriend or something.

Because I am _not _his girlfriend.

Even if it means Milky Way coffee every day.

And then I notice something.

"Are you wearing glasses?" I ask in disbelief. Edward frowns before quickly reaching up and removing them. He looks a little embarrassed.

"My uh…one of my contacts ripped this morning," he mutters.

God, he's cute. Even with the glasses. I grin at him.

"You don't have to take them off," I tell him. "I just never saw you as a guy with glasses. A guy with glasses who goes on blind dates." I sip my coffee and it's still hot.

"You go on blind dates." He puts the glasses in the pocket of his lab coat. I wonder how well he sees without them.

"But no glasses," I point out, pointing to my bare eyes. "Perfect vision. But thank you for the coffee," I quickly go on. "You don't have to do this, though. I usually drink it before I come to work. I was just running late yesterday."

He smiles at me, and it still causes that same damn feeling.

"We're dating now, Bella. It's only proper that I attend to your…needs." He winks and I roll my eyes.

"Gross," I lie as I try to occupy myself with my drink. On the contrary, that wink makes me think things that would have my mother blushing. Well maybe not _my _mother. But someone's mother, surely. "But our _outing_ is tomorrow," I remind him. "So we're not dating."

"We've already gone on one date. This will be the second."

"The first date still doesn't count."

"Why not?" He feigns offense. "I paid for your dinner. I even walked you to your car! It was a very good date, I think."

Does a date even count anymore if there's not a kiss? I'm so out of practice that I can't remember, but there's no way I'm bringing it up in case it gives him any crazy ideas.

It's hard enough keeping my cool while simply talking to the man. Having his tongue down my throat is bound to complicate things, right?

Yes, Bella. So no funny business.

_Fine_.

"I guess I just have high standards," I tease with a shrug. Edward frowns and crosses his arms as he scrutinizes me.

"Noted. I'll be sure to step up my game," he replies.

_Oh God_.

"Hmm. Well I hope that works out for you." I smile at him, but inwardly I'm screaming at myself for encouraging this behavior. I have no idea what he's planning, and I'm not so sure I want to know.

Scratch that. I wouldn't be going out with him if I didn't want to know.

I am so screwed.

-x-x-

Emmett looks skeptical. I keep a platonic smile plastered on my face and try to appear innocent.

"Who's all going to be there?" he asks me. Again.

"Me, Edward. Maybe Alice. Mike said he'd probably come."

"Really? Because I just ran into Mike downstairs and he didn't mention it."

_Crap_.

"Well he said he wasn't sure yet."

Emmett narrows his eyes dubiously. Why am I so bad at this? All I have to do is lie for five simple minutes.

"Whatever," I say hastily. "You don't have to come. I just thought you might want to."

"Alright, alright." He sets down the pen he was using to mark in a chart. "I'll come. But I may be a few minutes late."

"Yeah, yeah. That's fine." I smile at him reassuringly. His tardiness may piss off Dr. Hale, but whatever. It's better than nothing.

I had finally convinced Edward to invite Dr. Hale out to a restaurant in downtown Seattle for 'drinks.' She accepted, and now my job is to get Emmett to attend. And once the plan is in action, we can kick back and enjoy the show.

Well maybe not the _show_, as we'll be far away on our outing. But we'll probably talk about it and make fun of them a lot. And I'll get to taunt Emmett next week and bask in the sweet, sweet aftermath of revenge.

Edward is not so enthused.

_I'll be dead when they figure out what we've done, so we better make this date count_, he texts me. I'm not sure if there's a sexual innuendo hidden in there or not. Damn text messages can be cryptic sometimes.

_I'm sure you can outrun Dr. Hale_, I reply. Better keep it safe so he doesn't have grounds to accuse _me_ of being a perv.

_Will you protect me?_

_Probably not._

_That hurts._

_The truth usually does._

_We'll see..._

I sigh. Yes, we will see.

-x-x-

"What are you wearing on your date tonight?" Alice asks me. She called me after she got off work, and I'm now standing in front of my closet in my underwear with my phone lodged between my ear and shoulder.

I've been standing here for almost half an hour.

I didn't even care this much during my blind date.

_What is wrong with me?_

"It's an outing. And I'll probably wear jeans and a nice shirt, why?" I ask casually.

"You have a really pretty blue dress in the back of your closet that I think you should wear. It still had the tags on it."

The dress she's referring to is one I bought to wear to a conference with Alec. However, I got food poisoning the day before and spent the night puking into a trash can while Alec canoodled with a bunch of assholes and likely didn't even think about me. Well, he _did _bring me soup when it was over, but I couldn't eat it, so we might as well as say he did nothing.

"That's a little dressy," I protest, but I lunge for the back of the closet to produce said dress. I hold it up on its hanger and wonder if it's appropriate.

"Are you kidding? It's _gorgeous_!" she exclaims. "I was wondering why you haven't worn it yet. And you're going on a date, not hiking. You can't wear jeans." She's very matter-of-fact.

"It's an outing," I say again. Is anybody listening to me? I'm starting to sound like a broken record over here. I'm almost annoying _myself_.

"Right. An outing," she says derisively. "Have fun with that…_outing_."

Is she making fun of me?

"Well I gotta go," I say dismissively. Screw her and her sarcasm. "I've got to get ready."

"Fine. But wear the dress." Her tone sounds like a warning. Like it's laced with an unspoken threat.

"I'll think about it."

"I don't know why people don't just trust me," she whines.

"I still haven't forgiven you for the baby comment," I remind her. "Not to mention your annoying love of playing Cupid."

"I stick with what I'm good at," she says simply.

When we hang up, I try on the dress. It fits really well – it accents my curves and even makes the tatas look nice. And everyone likes nice looking tatas.

But are they _too _nice? I'm not even sure what this outing means. I'm attracted to Edward, obviously, but I don't think I'm ready to be in another relationship just yet. I haven't even been single a month, for Christ's sake. I at least need to let the Alec scum wear off before I go adding new layers of scum.

I eventually take the dress off. It's just going to complicate things.

I spend the next twenty minutes trying to decide on an outfit. I eventually give up and stand in front of my bathroom mirror in my underwear while I put on makeup and fix my hair. While I work, I think over the outfits in my head so that I can make a decision and save time.

But the decision never comes, and instead I'm interrupted by a knock on the door.

I immediately snatch my phone off the counter and glance at the time.

_Fuck_.

I've never spent so long getting ready. How did I let so much time get away from me? I sling all my makeup back into the bag before poking my head out the bedroom door and yelling, "Just a minute!"

I'm woefully out of time, so I have no choice except to slide into the dress and rip the tag off with my teeth. I'm like a woman deranged. Hopefully I didn't tear the fabric.

I grab my shoes from the closet before running out of the bedroom. I make sure to close the door behind me because, goddamn, it looks like a tornado blew through my closet. Every outfit I own is now either on the floor or the bed. It's like a fashion show massacre.

Edward is knocking again by time I reach the door. "I'm coming!" I yell again.

I pull the door open with my shoes still in hand. Edward is standing on the other side, dressed handsomely in a light blue button-down shirt with navy slacks and brown dress shoes. He's not wearing his glasses, even though I wouldn't mind if he was, and his hair is sort of tamed for once, and _damn_, I don't think he looked this good even on our blind date.

His entire face brightens into a smile when he sees me. His eyes trail south and for a few fleeting moments I'm actually glad I wore the dress.

I feel sexy. Secure.

Edward can sense this. Men can sense confidence.

"You look…wow. You look gorgeous," he finally says, his eyes meeting mine again. His accompanying grin leaves me breathless.

"Thanks." I smile shyly and step aside so that he can enter. "I just need one more minute, if that's okay."

"Of course it is, Bella. Take all the time you need."

"Okay. Make yourself at home." I turn to walk away before suddenly spinning around again. "God, my manners," I laugh. "Do you want a drink or something?"

"I'm good. I'll just, uh…go sit over here while I wait." He gestures to the couch and I smile again before leaving to finish up.

I give myself a pep talk in the bathroom.

_It's just an outing. Not even a date._

_So why are you wearing this stupid sexy dress then, Bella? Your tatas look so good they might as well be singing. That's how much attention they're drawing right now._

_It's not my fault I have nice tatas._

_Oh, get a clue. You know you do those chest-press exercises at the gym for a reason. You weren't born with nice tatas._

_Excuse _me_ for wanting to be in shape._

Okay, so maybe it's less of a pep talk and more of a one-sided argument from a crazy person. Same thing, really.

I quickly finish getting ready and slip on my shoes. Edward is watching TV when I enter, but his gaze instantly falls on me again. He stands and turns the TV off.

"You ready?" he asks eagerly.

I take a deep breath, because right now, I can't be sure.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I finally say with a smile.

-x-x-

We decide to eat dinner at the Jazz Alley Restaurant located on 6th Avenue. Technically, it was my decision – we agreed that I would be in charge of dinner while he decided what we did afterwards. This seemed to be the best consensus considering I still hadn't made any great plans for tonight.

We take seats near the back.

"So you like Jazz," Edward muses as the server hands him a menu. I shrug my shoulders as I sip my water.

"I like live music," I say.

"Fair enough."

I cock an eyebrow at him. "You don't like Jazz?"

"I like it fine," he says. "I just never saw _you_ as a Jazz girl."

"I guess we're both just full of surprises," I joke.

"Surprises keep people on their toes," he tells me, a glint to his eye. I'm not so sure I care for surprises, and he still won't tell me where we're going after dinner even though I told him about this place straight away. Doesn't really seem like an even trade, but he doesn't relent no matter how many times I ask him.

I narrow my eyes at him, and he knows what I'm thinking. He smiles and returns to his menu. The music has already started, and coupled with the dim lights, the room has a very mellow atmosphere. Regulars from around Seattle flock here every weekend, and you can really see the love in their eyes as they listen and sip their drinks and enjoy being…

Well, they just enjoy _being_. They enjoy sitting, talking, booze, food, and music. They enjoy life. And that's why I love Jazz.

Since we're here, I figure we should probably get to know each other. Our server places our drinks in front of us before I lean towards Edward a bit.

"I heard your dad is a doctor."

Edward looks up in surprise. "You met him?" he asks.

I shake my head. "No, I just, uh…I heard of him."

"Oh. Well…yeah. My dad's a doctor." He doesn't seem keen on discussing it and offers no more input.

"What kind of doctor?" I press.

"A cardiovascular surgeon."

I frown. Oh…a _surgeon._ They're usually worse than regular doctors.

I wonder if his father acts like him. At my last job, there were two brothers who were both gastroenterologists. They looked just alike and acted just alike. Not to mention they were both Colon Kings. They even came to the staff barbeque wearing matching shirts that said, "Relax, I'm a gastroenterologist." It was kind of weird.

"That must have made things easier for you," I say. "I mean, you wanted to be a doctor and your dad was already a doctor…"

Edward looks up at me. "My mom's a doctor, too. Have you heard about her?" He's not bragging about this, but simply putting it out there. But I'm still surprised.

"No. Wow."

"Yep. She's an OBGYN, though. She delivers babies." He takes a long sip of his drink and I can sense the tension I've created. Gosh, their family dinners must be insane. I can't help but imagine a whole family of doctors sitting around eating caviar and drinking fine wine while they discuss medical journals and how awesome they all think they are. "What do your parents do?" he suddenly asks me.

I clear my throat, the mental image of his family quickly vanishing. "My dad's a cop. The last I heard, my mom was trying to start her own business on Ebay. She's selling homemade candles or something."

He looks intrigued. "Dad's a cop, huh?"

"Yep. He has a gun belt and everything. So you better watch your step," I tease.

"Will do," Edward chuckles. "That must have been pretty intimidating for your high school dates. I can't really imagine stepping up to a police officer's door when I was seventeen to take out his daughter."

"I wouldn't know. I actually stayed with my mom in Florida until I turned eighteen. Though you're right, it's probably why he chose the profession." I smile at him.

"Smart man."

The server comes by and takes our orders.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" I ask him.

"Nope. Only child."

"Me too."

"How old were you when your parents divorced?"

"Thirteen."

He looks surprised. "And you moved all the way across the country?"

"Not exactly," I say. "My mom has a sister in Colorado, so we stayed there for a while. And then, yes, my mom suddenly decided she wanted to be somewhere sunny. So we moved to Florida and she loved it so much that she's been there ever since."

We continue this easy conversation until the server brings our food, and then we eat quietly while we listen to the music. I keep chancing peeks at Edward, noting how well his shirt fits and how I can make out some definition of his arms through his sleeves. And then I imagine him shirtless and my thoughts take a rocky detour to naughtyville.

And this isn't supposed to be a date.

_Bitch, please_. _You wore the dress_.

We stay and listen to the music a few more minutes after we finish eating. We rib on Emmett and wager what they're doing right now – Edward reckons he's probably dead in a ditch while Dr. Hale scours the streets with a carving knife in search of us. I bet that they're getting it on in the bathroom, just because I think some of Emmett's tension is sexual and it's rubbing off on me. At least that's what I tell myself whenever I get all hot looking at Edward. Eventually, Edward stands and offers me his hand, which I accept. He helps me from my seat.

"We should go or we're going to be late," he says.

"Where are we going?" I ask again, hopeful.

"Still not telling you," he replies with a smug smile. "I wouldn't dream of ruining the surprise."

I follow him out of the restaurant and realize that we're still holding hands, so I pull mine away. I still don't know what to think about…this. About Edward. He's a doctor, for Christ's sake, but most importantly, he's a _man_.

My last relationship was exhausting. The entire time Alec cheated, we fought. I just never knew the reasons behind his discontent. I never knew that he had someone who made him happier than I could – that he had checked out of our relationship, but was simply too much of a coward to tell me. I spent years committed and months emotionally drained, and now I crave the freedom that comes with being single. I crave the idea of going on dates and meeting new people. I crave being able to do what I want without having to worry about someone getting jealous or, worse, actually having to ask their _permission_.

I crave being my own person. I want to figure out who _I_ am, not see myself as the person I become with a man as my constant shadow.

Yet here is Edward. He's good looking, smart, and funny. And he seems to really be into me.

And yet so was Alec. Alec was into me the last two years of med-school, all until he started his internship and began introducing himself as _doctor_ to pretty girls. And he'd always made fun of doctors with me, until he became one. Then he started saying I was out of line for complaining to my supervisor when a doctor screamed at me – that they are overworked and stressed and I should cut them some slack.

I witnessed the formation of a God-complex in its early stages, and let me tell you, it's not a pretty sight.

Now, I'm not so sure how to deal with this thing with Edward. Against my better judgment, I actually like him. _A lot_. But I may be rushing into things too fast. Perhaps I should slow down and take some time for myself before jumping into another relationship.

And does he even want a relationship? Maybe he dates a lot. Maybe this is just a casual thing. He did go on the blind date, after all. But that seemed a little out of character for him.

Everything is just so confusing.

Edward opens his car door for me, and I grumble as I slide inside.

"I thought I told you I didn't like surprises."

He chuckles as he joins me in the car. "All the more reason to do it. You're cute when you're flustered."

I blink at him. "So you antagonize me on purpose?" I ask in disbelief.

"Well…yes. But you like it," he states simply.

"I do not." I cross my arms.

"Then why haven't you told me to fuck off by now?"

"I think I told you to do that the first time we met."

"I mean since we've been dating, of course." He grins cheekily at me as he waits for an answer.

"Edward?" I say sweetly.

"Yes, Bella?"

"Fuck off."

He laughs and shakes his head as he starts the car and pulls out of the parking space. My expression mirrors his own.

Yeah, I guess I do like it.

-x-x-

We take a ferry from Fauntleroy to Southworth, where we disembark and take a short walk downtown. The sun is setting and it drizzles for a moment, causing Edward to remove his jacket and place it over my shoulders. I'm surprised by the gesture, but the good smell and warmth of his coat quickly subdues me.

"I probably should have brought an umbrella," he says, casting his eyes at the orange and grey sky. "Apparently I didn't think things through."

I shrug my shoulders. "It's fine. I'm used to getting rained on here." I follow his gaze to where the sun is setting. Despite the almost constant gloom, Seattle is a beautiful city.

"It's just a little further," he says. I don't bother asking where we're going – I've already worn myself out begging. It's obvious he isn't going to cave.

But he suddenly looks a little nervous.

"I hope you don't think this is completely lame. It seemed better than a movie and I actually really enjoy myself every time I come here."

I look at him. "Well it would help if I knew where we're going," I hedge lightly.

He sighs. "Fine." Turning to me, he says, "We're going to a comedy club."

I'm surprised, thought it's mainly because he actually revealed what we're doing. I was pretty sure I couldn't have even beat it out of him at this point.

"A comedy club?" I echo.

"Is that okay?" he asks, looking worried again. "To be honest, I'm not really sure what you like. I don't really know you well, nor do I know anybody who _does_ know you. Except Emmett and Alice, but they've only known you a few weeks. I doubt they'd really know if your harbor some secret hatred for comedy acts…"

I quickly shake my head, hoping to abate his worries. "That's fine, Edward," I say. "That actually sounds…kind of cool. I've never seen a live comedy act before."

He looks relieved. "Really?"

"Yeah. I didn't know they had them here," I add. His pace matches mine as we walk deeper downtown, away from the ferry slip.

"Yeah, they do." He scratches the back of his head. "The acts here are pretty good too."

"Good. Because if the act blows, it's gonna cost you," I tease.

Edward grins. "Cost me, huh? Cost me what?"

I take a moment to think about it, and Edward laughs. I shove his shoulder. "Shut up! It'll be something terribly inconvenient and embarrassing for you, and that's all you need to know."

"Right," he says, and the word is laced with amusement.

We enter the comedy club and, while there's a few seats near the front, I get cold feet and insist on sitting in the back. "What if he calls me out on something?" I say, my paranoia obviously making another grand appearance. It's nice and dark in the back, and we'll be hidden in shadows. "I saw _The Nutty Professor_. I know how these things work. He'll make fun of me."

"What the hell would he make fun of you about?" Edward asks as we sit. The server passes and we order drinks, and then he turns back to me. "If anything, he'd make fun of _me_," he continues.

I consider arguing, but instead I lean over and tug on the collar of his shirt. "Yeah, that's true. I mean, did you get dressed in the dark or something? Because this shirt is _hideous_," I joke. But it's a lie. All lies. He looks fucking hot.

He smirks and, leaning close, murmurs in my ear, "I wish I could say the same about you, but _God_, you really do look amazing in that dress."

I blush.

And I swear, I never used to blush.

We sip our drinks and talk until the first act starts. The comedy ends up being incredible – I haven't laughed so hard in a long time, and the comedian _does_ make fun of someone sitting up front. I nudge Edward in the side and try to ignore the way his body feels.

"See?" I whisper in his ear. "That could be _me_!"

"Bella, that guy is drunk and drawing negative attention to himself," Edward argues. "He's asking for it."

He's right, but I still get paranoid.

The two drinks I've had leave me feeling loose and relaxed. And also unable to walk. I hang onto Edward's arm as I carefully try to navigate the flight of stairs in my heels, all the while fearing a head-first plunge to the cement below.

Edward's hand on my back doesn't help matters. I can't concentrate on walking. I pull away from him once we're outside, and we haphazardly make our way back to the ferry. It's almost fifteen minutes until its next arrival, and we sit on a bench to wait.

"I had fun on our _outing_," I say, stressing the word. I'm teasing Edward. He's put his jacket across my shoulders again and I feel drunk off his smell. I even lean over when he's not looking to take a sniff or two.

Every part of me craves him, and it's a challenge to stand nearby without touching.

But that's just the alcohol talking. Or his smell.

Maybe both.

"Yes, our _date_ was fun," he counters.

"We should go out on another _outing_ again sometime."

"I'd love to go out on another _date_ with you."

"Good. You've got yourself an _outing_."

"_Date_."

"_Outing._"

We grin at each other.

"When do you work again?" I ask.

"Tomorrow."

"Oh. I'm off," I say stoically. I don't know why, but I feel disappointed. It's not as if he'd be spending the day with me. And it's not as if I'd _want_ him to spend the day with me.

But the more I think about it, the more I realize I _do_ want to spend more time with him. And that thought bothers me.

The ferry ride is kind of quiet. The city is lit up around us, and it's terribly romantic. But I work to keep my distance from Edward. I don't stand close or lean against him or sneak a kiss the way a normal girl with feelings would. Instead, I just hover near the rail with his stupid jacket, sniffing away like some sort of pheromone fiend.

We listen to music on the car ride home and make occasional small talk. I figure Edward is probably tired from his day of work. All the while, I kick myself for propositioning another outing with him earlier. It sort of just slipped out. It was easy and something you'd say when you've had a good time.

But I shouldn't lead him on this way. I'm just not ready for…more.

The big 'R' word looms murky and red, and it's scary as hell.

He pulls up to my apartment and gets out before I even have time to unbuckle my seatbelt. I look on in confusion as he walks to my side of the car and opens the door.

"What are you doing?" I ask. I take his proffered hand and step out of the car.

"Walking you inside," is his simple reply.

"Oh. You don't have to do that…"

"No arguing, Bella. When one goes on an outing, one walks the lady inside."

I look at him, both impressed and amused. "That's very…gallant…of you."

"Yeah, well. That's the other _optional_ class for doctors that they don't tell you about."

"Right. And _you_ took it?" I cock an eyebrow at him.

"Maybe."

"You just don't always put what you've learned into practice," I observe.

"Hey! I've been good," he argues. "I've been very nice to Angela since that day. And you, too. I seem to recall someone saying they had a good time tonight."

We walk inside the apartment building. His hand is still holding mine.

I should push it away. I _want_ to push it away.

But we enter the elevator, and I don't push it away. And then we're at my apartment door, and I still don't push it away.

I still want to, but I just don't. I can't.

Edward looks at me, and the connection is finally broken. His doing, of course. I couldn't pull away. And my thoughts take a new turn, wondering if it's polite to send him on his way without inviting him inside first.

He clears his throat. "I really did have a good time," he says, sheepishly rubbing his neck. And then he looks at me suspiciously. "Were you serious about going out again?"

Yes. No. I don't fucking know.

"You want to come inside real quick?" I ask instead of answering. I don't know why I do this – the truth is going to come out eventually, no matter how much I stall. "I have really good Kool-Aid." I smile, attempting to hide my unease behind humor.

Edward cracks his own smile in return, and I'm leading him inside my apartment. I shut us in and excuse myself before quickly shedding my shoes and purse.

I need to talk to him. And if I do it quick, the truth will only sting for a second. Then I can get over it and move on.

But he's close when I turn around. So close that I jump back in surprise.

"Oh!" I gasp, my hand flying to my heart. It's already racing, the sensation like a stampede against my chest. It never slows when he's around.

Edward gazes down at me, unapologetic. There's a tiny crease in his brow as jade, thoughtful eyes meet mine.

"I'm sorry," he finally says, and I frown.

"For what?"

He responds by pressing his lips against mine, and for a brief moment my eyes go wide and I tense in alarm. The pressure is gentle at first; he barely captures my bottom lip between his before pulling away.

And then his lips find mine again. And again. And my fingers climb north to twist in his hair; my arm wraps around his neck, my other over his shoulder, and my body is pulled flush to his. He's warm and hard and perfect, and he smells and tastes unlike anything I've ever experienced. My lips part, allowing his warm tongue to slide against my own, and my body is captured between his and the wall as I'm pushed backwards and pinned.

Breathing is suddenly overrated. I pull him closer, wanting _more_. His hands slide from my neck, down my sides, to my hips. Our kisses become frenzied. Hard.

Passionate.

He finally pulls back a fraction to catch his breath, but his lips never linger more than an inch from my own. And just as quickly as we parted, we're kissing again, desperate and eager and determined.

And it's _so_ good.

The second time he pulls away, I push against his chest, urging him to step back. He doesn't move from in front of me, only offering a few inches of space.

He looks into my eyes and I know he's trying to decipher my thoughts.

I feel all out of sorts.

I kiss him again, gently, and then carefully push his face away. He frowns.

"What's wrong?" His words are breathless, surrounded by short pants as we both struggle to catch our breaths.

I close my eyes and shake my head. I can't think when he's this close. I can't think while he's staring at me, awaiting a sensible response.

I just can't think.

"I don't know," I finally reply. I let my head fall back to rest against the wall and take a deep breath. I can feel Edward's own breaths, short and shallow, against my jaw. I open my eyes to look at him, and finally spit it out. "I'm not sure I can do this," I whisper.

"Do what?" he asks. His hands are still on my hips, his eyebrows still furrowed.

I swallow. "This."

"What?" he asks again. "Kissing?"

I shake my head quickly. "No. I mean…yes. I mean…I'm not ready for _this_." I gesture between the two of us. "The whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing. The fighting, the relationship, the commitment. I just got out of a relationship about a month ago. I haven't been single in years. I actually…I can't ever remember being single," I finish slowly. I shake my head again, but this time it's in a forlorn realization. I chuckle humorlessly and look down to my feet.

Edward finally steps back with a small sigh, giving me the space I both crave and abhor.

"Well, in my defense, I never asked you to be my girlfriend," he says. I peek up at him, unsure if he's joking or not, and find him smiling lightly.

Maybe this is how he deals with rejection – with humor.

I nod. "I know." My eyes drift to the ground again, but this time Edward brings them back to his with a finger on my chin.

"Hey," he says lightly. "I really like you, Bella. But I wasn't trying to…_rush _into a commitment tonight. I wasn't proposing, or even asking you to be my girlfriend." He rubs his hand over his face, and then through his hair. "I just like you," he finally concludes.

"I like you too," I offer quietly.

Edward smiles.

"To be honest, I'm just glad it wasn't a doctor thing," he says, and I grin.

"Well, I didn't want to say anything…"

He scowls and pinches my side briefly, causing me to squirm. Then I relax against the wall again. This is supposed to be a serious conversation.

"You seem to be an okay doctor," I tell him. "Right now, at least."

"And you seem to be an okay nurse. Right now, at least," he says with a smile.

I smile and bite my lip. Edward is pensive.

He eventually speaks again. "Then can we agree to just…like each other?" he asks. He suddenly looks as unsure as I feel. "There doesn't have to be commitments. Not if you're not ready for it."

I feel like I'm going to chew a hole through my lip. "I'm not really sure what that means," I admit.

He reaches up to push a strand of hair from my face, and then steps forward so that his nose is just a hair's breadth from my own. I hold my breath and stay perfectly still as I await his next move.

"It means we can do what feels right," he murmurs, his breath ghosting across my lips. "And if you like it, then you do it. And if you don't like it, you…don't do it."

This kind of makes sense. Or maybe it doesn't make sense at all.

It's really hard to think when he's standing this close.

"I don't…I mean…okay," I say dumbly.

"Do you like it when I kiss you?" he asks me. I don't even have to think about it.

"Yes."

"Then we should probably keep doing it," he says, and there's a swagger, an air of confidence to his voice that leaves me both amused and slightly aroused.

I think of witty comebacks, but they never leave my mouth. My lips are drawn to his, the attraction overriding every rational thought in my mind, and I'm once again pressed into the wall as I tug and pull his body closer. I can't feel enough of him, and yet it's all too much. I'm lost in him – his smell, his taste, the way his skin and hair feel beneath my fingers. It's not until his erection presses against my stomach that reality truly hits home.

When we finally part to draw breath, I push him away with both hands.

"I'm sure you have a long day of work tomorrow," I pant.

I want more than anything for him to stay, but what of the repercussions? What would happen tomorrow? And I've never had casual sex before, though I'm not so sure I would even want it to be casual.

There are too many factors I need to sort out before we become kissing buddies. And I'm pretty sure I should sort out said factors when my brain is less clouded with…lust.

Dear God, I'm admittedly lusting after a doctor.

He kisses me on the lips one last time. It's quick and gentle. "Okay," he says, stepping backwards to give me space. He understands that I'm dismissing him, though he doesn't seem upset or even bring it up.

I walk him out of the apartment. We don't say goodbye, because we'll likely talk again soon. Judging from the crooked smile he gives me just before turning away, I won't be surprised if he texts me tonight.

And when he's gone, I feel like I can finally breathe again.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and reviewing! Your responses have really blown me away. I love hearing your medical/doctor stories. Hope you all enjoyed the outtake last chapter and sorry I don't have time to reply to more people more often, but know that I adore each and every one of you.**

**Thanks to ms-ambrosia for betaing and passionmama for prereading. I love them hard.**

**You can follow me on twitter at mybluesky1 for teasers and maybe some occasional inappropriate rambling.**


	8. Chapter Seven

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

-x-x-x-x-

**Chapter 7 - Slow Days Make for Fine Wooing**

_Red Alert – Emmett is wearing yesterday's scrubs._

I blink at the screen of my phone, my mind still cloudy with sleep, and wonder if I'm reading this correctly. A part of me wonders if I'm dreaming.

I blindly fumble through a text message. _How do you know?_

_He has paint on the bottom of the leg where he leaned against a wet wall. I'd know those pants anywhere._

_Okay, not going to touch that one. But does this mean…?_

_He won't talk to me about it…_

I lie back on my bed, grinning, because holy mother of secret affairs, Emmett is _so_ getting it on with Dr. Hale. _I knew it_.

I roll back over in bed and I'm just starting to doze off again when my phone beeps. I think of ignoring it, but my mind is unable to disregard anything to do with Edward. And I'm a tiny bit disgusted with myself, but obviously not enough to stop.

_What are you doing?_

I look at the time. It's eight forty-seven according to my cell phone. I usually sleep much later on my days off, my way of making up for the days I have to wake up at five a.m. Plus, I was so plagued with thoughts of Edward and the way his lips felt against mine – the way his hair felt intertwined through my fingers – that I couldn't sleep a wink. And I won't even get started on how much obsessing I did over the entire ordeal.

It was an _insane _amount of obsessing.

I'm not proud of myself.

_I WAS sleeping_, I text him.

_If I don't get to sleep in then neither do you_.

I smile smugly at the phone and roll over again, burying myself beneath the covers, but not before I put it on silent and send one last text.

_Watch me_.

-x-x-

"So…you kissed…I knew you would…that's awesome…it was…the dress…right?"

Alice's words come in broken fragments as she lowers her torso up and down, crunching again and again, now on two-hundred-and-something and still not even breaking a sweat. I don't know how she does it; I feel like I'm starting to perspire just from holding her knees together.

"It _was _good," I admit, exasperated. "And that's _not_ good."

Alice gives me a quizzical look, never faltering in her crunches, until she finally collapses on the floor. Her arms fall wide at her sides as she breathes in and out heavily.

"Let me get this straight," she says, propping herself up on her elbows. "The kiss was good?"

I nod sheepishly, feeling a little embarrassed discussing it.

"And that's _not_ good?"

"Right."

"I don't understand."

"I don't want to be tied down with anyone right now," I say as we swap places on the floor. She holds my knees tightly as I get in position, my hands behind my head. "I just want to be single. You know? Is that so bad?"

She shakes her head, but she still doesn't seem to understand. "How come? What's so great about being single?"

"What's great…is that…it's like…freedom…"

I can't talk while I'm crunching, so I eventually stop trying. But that doesn't stop Alice.

"Let me tell you, Bella, Edward is a good guy. I mean yeah, he can be a dick sometimes, but what doctor isn't? And hell, have you spoken to some of the nurses around there? I'd slit my wrists before I let some of those bitches take care of me. Not to mention he's like a goddamn saint compared to Dr. Biers."

I haven't met the infamous Dr. Biers, but Alice said he's an overly cocky cardiovascular surgeon who apparently screamed at her once and really ticked her off. And she also said he's bald with a huge, misshapen beak of a nose.

She seems to be holding just a tiny little grudge.

I eventually fall back on the floor and try to catch my breath. "It's not that. I was with my last boyfriend for five years. _Five freakin years_! That's five years of being tied down to someone and never doing what _I _wanted just so that he could cheat on me and throw it all away."

"Edward wouldn't cheat on you," she says, but I quickly shake my head to refute the idea.

"It's not about that. It's just the whole _idea _of being single. I mean, I never really enjoyed being young, you know? Alec always had to study and whenever I went out without him, he'd get jealous, so I eventually just started staying at home all the time. We watched the goddamn _Golden Girls_. I was like a senior citizen stuck in a young person's body."

Alice giggles and pretends to be offended. "Hey! I like _The Golden Girls_."

"You know what I mean. Are you ready to go run?"

She nods and we make our way over to the treadmills. We both get going at a slow jog before we start talking again.

"You know, you don't have to be exclusive," she tells me. "If you're really that insistent on being single."

"Yeah, we talked about that a little. But I doubt I could do the casual sex thing," I say, thinking it over. I just can't imagine having sex with someone without…_feeling _things. Not to mention I already feel things for Edward. Sex would only complicate everything. "And do you even think he'd go for that?" I ask.

She tsks me. "Bella, he's a man. Of course he'd go for that." Continuing to run, and panting a little, she adds, "Besides, he's pretty much done it before."

"What do you mean?" I ask quickly, frowning. Alice just smirks upon seeing my interest.

"Relax, Bella. Nothing to get upset about. Especially for a self-proposed single gal like yourself," she says cheekily, and some unearthed beast inside of me wants to shove her off her stupid treadmill. But she's right, and this why I don't want to be in a relationship again anyway. I don't feel like dealing with jealously drama right now.

I need a goddamn break.

"I'm not upset," I say, and hopefully my meager argument is convincing. But Alice gives me a knowing look.

I purposefully avoid asking for more details. I don't want to seem obvious, but Alice can apparently tell that I'm dying to know the specifics. She finally shakes her head and puts me out of my misery.

"I promise it's not a big deal, Bella. He used to see Dr. Ellis a while back. I don't think it ever got serious."

"Dr. Ellis?"

"Yeah. She's an orthopedic surgeon. You'll probably see her around." She glances at me. "I don't think he really liked her, though. If anything, I think his dad kind of pressured them into dating to begin with. His dad loved her for some reason."

I think of his father. His father the surgeon. A surgeon who loves other surgeons.

He probably hates nurses, knowing my luck.

"What's his dad like?" I ask.

Alice shrugs. "He's alright. A little pretentious for my taste. Wants things done his way and only his way, you know? He loves taking shit to administration."

I think about this, trying to get an image of him in my head. I imagine he looks a lot like Edward. Maybe a handsome, older version of Edward.

"So how long do you plan on remaining celibate? I mean single?" Alice suddenly asks, correcting herself quickly. She has a knowing, smug smile.

"Until I feel like it," I huff, speeding up my pace on the treadmill. "I'll know when it's time for a change."

She laughs, and it's kind of derisive, like she knows things that I don't. Like she knows I don't stand a chance – like she knows I'm going to fuck up all my plans.

She laughs, and I hate the sound.

-x-x-

"So you're not speaking to me now?"

Emmett looks up at me from where he's charting. His face is a blank mask, his eyes just as quickly drifting to his paper again.

"I am speaking," is his simple reply.

"About Dr. Hale," I press him.

"I have nothing to talk about concerning _Dr. Hale_." His voice is calm, but he angrily recaps his pen and I know I've touched a nerve. I just can't figure out what his deal is. And the fact that I haven't gotten anything – not one single remark, not one tiny threat to get me back – is a little disappointing.

"Rumor has it you wore the same scrubs as the night before." I'm goading him, digging for a reaction. The patient census is low and I'm bored, and what better entertainment is there than getting a good rise out of Emmett?

"Well rumor has it _you_ sucked face with a doctor all night." He stands up, triumphant in his words, and I blush furiously.

"Who told you that?" I demand.

"None of your business." He walks away.

"I'll throw you under a bus, Emmett," I threaten him. "And I'll make sure no one finds the body."

I'm just teasing him. Sort of.

He keeps walking.

I sigh and use my foot to rock myself from side to side in the rolling chair. Jessica is putting in an order, but she gives me the stink-eye every few seconds. She hasn't really spoken to me ever since my first date with Edward, and I can't say that it bothers me.

I don't know whether or not Edward is working today. He hasn't texted me and I haven't seen him; I don't usually text him first because I don't want to give him the wrong idea about anything. Even though I'd like nothing more than to go strip him naked in the on-call room, I reign in my impulses and play it cool.

"Pockets, can you watch my team for a second? I'm gonna go get a drink."

I look up at Emmett innocently. "Sure. If you tell me about your date."

He frowns down at me, annoyed. "Nothing happened, Bella." Uh oh. I know he's irritated when he uses my real name. "I saw her there, knew I'd been set up, and I left. I don't understand what the fucking obsession is. Congratulations, you got me. Ha-fucking-ha."

Gosh, someone is touch -_y_.

Yes, there's some serious sexual tension here. The clues all add up, especially considering they have some kind of…_past _together. If they'd fought, Emmett wouldn't have a problem discussing it. And if he'd _really _just left, like he said, he wouldn't be so stand-offish every time I bring it up. I imagine he'd be threatening revenge and some form of unusual humiliation instead.

"Will you watch my team when you get back?" I ask, deciding to just drop it for now. Apparently, I need to figure out a new strategy for getting this information. Getting him angry probably isn't the best idea.

"Why? Do you want a drink? I'll buy you a drink."

"No, I want to take a break."

"Take a break? And what do you call what you've been doing the last half hour? Testing the chair's endurance?" He's obviously still mad about the Dr. Hale pestering I've done. All he ever does is hold up counters and test chair endurances, so he's not one to talk.

"Do you want me to watch your team or not?" I ask, mirroring his irritation.

"Fine," he huffs. "I'll be back in a few. I just checked on everybody – they're all breathing and absolutely ecstatic to be in this hell hole," he says sarcastically. "So you shouldn't have to worry about them. And I have my phone if you need me."

I nod, and he's gone. And he ends up staying gone for almost half an hour. But none of his patients need anything except Mr. Jonesboro, who simply needs a new Morphine syringe for his PCA pump. Shelly and Angela are the other nurses working with us today, but Shelly keeps disappearing to sneak cigarette breaks and Angela hides out in my office whenever her patients don't need her. And Jessica doesn't speak to me.

It's very quiet for once, and I like it.

A doctor comes to see one of Emmett's patients. I make rounds with him and practically hold his hand. "Bella, can you get me this?" and "What about labs from yesterday, Bella? Where are those?"

"Right here, Dr. Cambridge." I flip to the labs section of the chart.

"He had a CT done on Friday. Why isn't the CT report in here?"

"I'm not sure, Dr. Cambridge. I'll get it for you now."

"Can you tell me how much urine is in his foley bag?"

_Mother of Christ_. He was _just_ in there.

After I check the urine bag, he wants to know what his IV fluids are and how fast they're going. I'm starting to wonder if this guy is even a doctor. I haven't seen him before and he seems to know _nothing_ about the patient.

He asks me to check the patient's oxygen level. Why? I'm not sure, and I'm wishing Emmett would hurry the hell up since I don't know much about the patient. But Edward is sitting in the nurses station when I get back, and just the sight of him leaves me nervous, my stomach all twisty. He smiles at me, and it seems like every word out of my mouth sounds stupid. But Dr. Cambridge is finally satisfied.

"Alright. I'm ordering a chest x-ray. Be sure it gets done tonight, Bella."

I roll my eyes behind his back. Goddamn doctors think they can just order everyone around. But Edward catches it and smirks, though he wisely remains silent.

"Can you tell me what the x-ray is for?" I ask, a forced politeness to my voice.

"To rule out pneumonia. I heard crackles in his right lower lobe."

And he's gone.

I sit down near Edward. My face feels a little hot and he's still smirking at me. "What?" I ask him.

"You have a problem letting anyone order you around, huh?" he remarks.

I take a deep breath and try to appear unaffected. I hate letting Edward see me get so wound up over something so trivial. "No. Why do you think that? I'm fine."

"I saw your expression," he says pointedly.

"But I didn't say anything," I defend myself. "I'm being a good nurse and keeping my mouth shut. You should be proud."

He just smiles at me as he opens a chart. My stomach flutters and I instantly feel better. I'm really not even sure what I was so riled up about to begin with.

I study Edward as he reads over the chart. He catches me staring, giving me a look and a smile, and suddenly it feels like we're eye-flirting or something. Which may be true, considering the heart palpitations I get each time.

But in-between eye-flirting, I note how tired he looks. His hair is unkempt, the skin beneath his eyes dark. And he rubs his face a lot, as if trying to wake himself up.

"When was your last day off?" I ask, a little concerned. It seems like he's worked a dozen days in a row.

"I don't know," he answers. "It's been over a week now, I think."

"What time did you get off last night?" I ask.

"Maybe seven or so."

"I thought you were supposed to get off at two."

"I was. I got busy. There were three codes yesterday and a lot of discharges."

"I'm sorry. At least it's slow today, right?"

Edward's tired eyes meet mine. "Guess you have me to thank for that," he jokes, forcing a smile. "It feels like I sent a hundred people home yesterday. It was one of those days..." His voice trails.

"When's your next day off?" I ask. I feel bad for the man. If they required _me_ to work over a week straight, I think I'd quit and go live in a cave somewhere. Surely that would be preferable in the long run.

"Umm…Thursday?" He says it like a question.

"Well I trust you've been taking advantage of the awesome coffee maker," I say.

"You have no idea," he says with a sly smile, and I'm a little jealous. I checked out the nurses lounge earlier and it didn't even have a freakin coffee maker, but I won't get started on _that_ abomination right now.

Emmett suddenly returns, and I swear I can hear his voice all the way through the elevator doors. I doubt he'd ever be able to sneak up on anyone. He greets Edward with enthusiasm and then pretends to make out with his own hand behind Edward's back, obviously goading _me_, and I suddenly wish I would have tried harder to piss him off about Dr. Hale earlier.

I pretend like his display doesn't bother me. "Dr. Cambridge said Mr. Jonesboro has right lobe crackles," I tell him. "Jessica already ordered a chest x-ray. And a BNP, just in case."

Emmett actually looks a bit offended. "He does _not_ have crackles."

"Dr. Cambridge disagrees."

Emmett shakes his head and grumbles as he walks away, presumably to go listen to Mr. Jonesboro's chest again. Edward stands up, glancing at the patient census board. Then he turns to go to a room, not bothering to ask anyone to round with him. I look at the board and realize why.

It's Angela's patient.

Under the guise of getting a drink from the nourishment room, I eventually meet him in the hallway on his way back to the desk. I pull him to the side where no one can hear us.

"Hey," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "Have you apologized to Angela?"

"No," he replies, and I can see that he doesn't plan to.

"Why not?"

He sighs loudly and scratches the back of his head again. Always scratching his head. I've noticed it's something he does when he's tired or thinking.

"I just don't feel like it today, alright? And it's not something she didn't have coming to her anyway."

I'm a little surprised to hear him say that. It's more of the old perception I had of Edward, not the new man I've come to know.

"What do you mean?" I ask, working to keep the edge out of my voice. "She's a good nurse, you know."

"No she's not, Bella," he argues, and I'm taken aback. "My orders don't get completed, my I's and O's don't get recorded half the time. She once gave blood pressure medicine to my patient whose blood pressure was 90/45 and I nearly had to send him to the unit when he completely bottomed out. I don't know why you've got her painted in this white light, but she's not a great nurse like you seem to think she is."

I look at him, feeling a little foolish. I guess he's right, all things considered. I barely know Angela. I've never worked behind her. All I know is she's sweet and quiet and I didn't like seeing her cry.

And I'm not sure why I keep defending her against the one person I actually _do _like.

"Why didn't you say that before?" I ask him.

"I didn't know you before," he answers, his exasperation still evident. "I don't make it a point to talk bad about people, especially to those who claim to hate me." I give him a look, and he quickly corrects himself. "_Doctors, _whatever. And then it never came back up."

I feel a little shitty all of a sudden. I don't know why I insist on always causing so much grief around here, but the sudden tension I've created is unwelcome, a stark contrast to my earlier good mood.

"I'm sorry," I mutter. "I won't bug you about it anymore. It's not any of my business anyway."

Edward sighs. He doesn't look upset, just exhausted. I wish I could take back my entire little confrontation. Not to mention he's worked a bazillion days in a row, and probably had on that day, as well. I become a cranky bitch after working just _three _days in a row, so it's not fair of me to expect him to always be such a saint. Especially when the help is poor.

"Are you busy?" he asks, his tone light, and I'm relieved that he's not mad at me.

I shake my head. "No. Why?"

"I have one more patient to see and then I was thinking of getting some more coffee. You want to come?"

The fluttering in my chest answers for me.

-x-x-

I check on all of my patients, and then hand them off to Emmett before following Edward onto the elevator. The short ride downstairs is quiet, as is the walk through the hallway. There's hardly another soul in sight, and I wonder if there's some kind of alignment of the planets causing this rare calmness today.

Edward lets us into the lounge and, as luck would have it, Dr. Cambridge is standing in front of the TV, holding a cup of coffee and a handful of mints as he stares off into the screen. He glances at us briefly when we enter and I see his eyes narrow slightly at the sight of me.

"Am I gonna get in trouble for being in here?" I whisper to Edward anxiously.

"Relax, Bella. We've already gone over this."

"But there was no one here last time."

Edward ignores me, instead greeting Dr. Cambridge cordially and immediately pulling open the drawers of the coffee machine. He looks at me as he pulls out different coffee packs. "Milky Way again?"

"Sure," I say, forcing myself to relax. This task is made much easier as soon as the beloved scent of Milky Way joe wafts through the air, and I suddenly can't remember what I was harping on about to begin with. Dr. _Who_?

Oh yes, Dr. Cambridge. The man sighs, alerting me to his presence again, and then shuffles out of the room. He's clearly not pleased at the sudden company. I, personally, couldn't care less. I've discovered that nothing matters when your coffee tastes like Milky Way.

I sit down with my coffee while Edward finishes making his.

"Want some cookies?" he asks me.

"No thanks," I reply.

"Are you sure? Cause I'm bringing two for myself and you're not getting one."

"I could get your cookie if I wanted it, Dr. Cullen," I threaten him. He laughs as he takes a seat beside me, and he's close. He'd be _too_ close, if I wasn't the crazy pheromone feign that I am and didn't crave his presence at all times of the day. And with the smell of cookies and Milky Way coffee intermingled, I'm almost certain I must be dead. This is what heaven smells like.

"You could try," he counters, clearly not afraid. "But most people regret that decision. I can be very protective of my cookies."

I reach over to try and swipe one, just because, but he expected this and grabs my wrist before I can latch onto the tasty treat. I squeal as he wrestles me away. We probably look ridiculous, fighting over a cookie when there's a huge plate five feet away, but luckily no one's around to bear witness.

We wrestle at the table until he manages to get both of my wrists in one hand, his grip so tight that I can't pull free. With his free hand, he grabs both cookies and shoves them in his mouth at the same time. Crumbs go everywhere, including on me, but for some reason it's just funny and not a bit gross.

"You cheated!" I accuse, still trying to free myself. "You can't just eat them. That's not fair."

"Suff…is…faw…" Crumbs spray everywhere as he attempts to speak around his bulging mouthful, causing me to shriek and pull away. He finally releases my hands, and a few seconds and several gulps of coffee later, he says, "I _told _you no one gets my cookies."

"Yeah, well you really made a pig of yourself," I tell him, gesturing to the cookie massacre all over his shirt. He looks down and begins brushing them away, then eventually removes his lab coat and drapes it over the chair behind him.

He's wearing a form-fitting t-shirt with blue scrub pants, and every muscle in my body clenches at the sight.

He should be in posters. Doctor posters. They should be hung up high in the Seattle skyline with the caption, "Feeling ill? Let the doctors of Harborview make you all better…" and I bet this place would be flooded with patients by the end of the day.

"So what do you think about Emmett and Dr. Hale?" I ask conspiratorially, hoping to take my mind off my genius marketing strategies and the model they include.

Edward shrugs. "I don't know. Emmett's always been weird about Dr. Hale."

"So you don't think they're getting it on?" I ask in disbelief, eyebrows raised.

"Would it matter if they were?"

"_Yes_." Yes, it would matter, because Emmett harasses me about Edward nonstop, and the least I can do is return the favor.

Edward looks at me in surprise, but then says, "Well you may be right. They _have_ gone at it before. You never know."

"He said he was going to get a drink and didn't come back for like thirty minutes. I bet they got it on in a janitor's closet somewhere."

"But Dr. Hale isn't working right now," Edward says, stomping that idea. "She doesn't work until tonight."

"Oh." Darn. He was probably just sitting around being lazy and uninteresting then.

"Are you working tomorrow?" he suddenly asks.

"Yes."

"Good." He smiles at me, and it makes my chest tighten and my insides clench and suddenly I'm _so_ glad I'm working tomorrow, though I never thought that would happen. Who looks forward to going to work?

The nurse being wooed by Dr. Cullen, that's who.

He's still sitting close – we're practically shoulder to shoulder – and he leans towards me just a little, but enough that our noses are practically touching. I can't make myself pull away, try as I might. My heart begins to thunder against my ribs.

"I like seeing you here," he murmurs, and I can feel his breath against my lips. "It makes the day _much _better."

His nose touches my nose, and then his lips touch my lips. It's soft at first, and I think he's just testing me, seeing if I'll pull away. But I can't. I think I surprise us both when I lean forward instead, increasing the pressure, claiming his lips with my own. This just spurs him on; he meets me with equal intensity, his mouth opening to mine, and he tastes sweet like cookies and I don't think I'll ever get enough.

I slide in my seat until I'm even closer, my side pressed flushed to his. He brings his hand to my face, pushing my stray hair aside while his thumb brushes against my skin, and we continue to kiss with an unrushed fervor for several glorious moments.

Suddenly there's a series of long, continuous beeps. It's loud, echoing around the room, and sounds from directly behind us. Edward grimaces before finally pulling away, and we're both a little breathless as he digs inside the pocket of his lab coat and pulls out the offending device.

He makes a face before immediately standing and putting his coat back on. "It's a rapid response. I've got to go, Bella. I'm sorry," he apologizes, and his movements are rushed. He doesn't even bother with his coffee now.

"It's fine," I say quickly, and I hasten to follow him out of the lounge, my own coffee in hand. A part of me wishes I could tag along and see him in action, but there's no reason for me to be there. I would probably just get in the way.

He's gone with just another brief goodbye, and there's a curious, empty feeling that haunts me in his absence.

-x-x-

I look forward to seeing Edward the whole next day. It's an irrational feeling, I think – no one should look forward to seeing a man this much unless they're sleeping together. And that's definitely not something we're doing, even if I imagine him naked more often than what's considered appropriate.

Actually, is it appropriate to _ever_ imagine your hot doctor friend naked?

I decide that's a question best left unanswered, because I probably won't like the answer I come up with. I happen to enjoy my little fantasies more than I probably should, but I'm okay with that.

As long as Edward never finds out, that is.

Each floor of the hospital is divided into two units, and down a long hallway I can spy the nurses station of the adjacent unit. I usually don't see much of those nurses, but transporters often go through our unit to get to the elevator directly in front of our station. And sometimes the nurses from "the other side" will come to our supply room to steal stuff and vice versa. We're actually not supposed to steal, as each unit has their own budget, apparently, but no one cares. There's no time to worry over budgets when your patient is in need and you're already running your ass off.

It's at this other nurses station that I see Edward. He's standing at the counter with a chart, flipping through its contents while scratching behind his ear.

I get that same fluttery feeling I always get when I see him.

I have to fax some orders, and if I look to the right and crane my head just a little bit I can see around the corner and have a good, clear view. I shamelessly ogle him as I wait for all my papers to go through the machine.

And then a woman – a tall, red-headed woman in a white lab coat – steps up to him and puts a hand on his shoulder, leaning in to whisper in his ear. He turns to look at her, and she steps back just enough for me to see him smile.

Alice approaches me from behind. "Who's that?" I ask her, and my voice is surprisingly clear and even despite the sudden twisting in my gut. I hear a scoff behind me, and I turn to see that it's Jessica awaiting the fax machine and not Alice.

"That's Dr. Ellis," Jessica says, shaking her head. She pushes past me to the machine and begins lining up her papers. "Her and Dr. Cullen have been seeing each other for years. Everyone knows that, Bella." Her finger presses a button and the machine slowly sucks up her papers. Her attention now appears to be focused on the task at hand, but I know better.

Jessica has openly lusted after Edward since before I met her, and she's had nothing but bitter feelings for me ever since my date with him. Alice said Edward doesn't see Dr. Ellis anymore, and I believe that's probably true.

But jealously is a miserable feeling, and_ oh_ how it burns.

* * *

Glossary:

**Rapid response** - this may vary from hospital to hospital, but where I work it's kind of like a code blue, except the patient is still alive. Basically, it's what we call when the patient's condition is deteriorating and we want to _prevent_ a code blue. Cause living patients are happy patients.

**BNP** - Brain Natriuretic Peptide. It's a lab test that shows how hard your heart is working. High levels indicate heart failure.

**I's and O's** - Intake and Output. What goes in must come out. Normally recorded on every patient on every shift. Extremely important when a patient comes in with heart failure, kidney failure, intestinal blockages, etc etc

If I missed anything, or if you have a question about anything else, just let me know via review or PM.

-x-x-

A/N: Sorry to leave it there, lovelies. But I have good news. First, my other story is complete, so now I should have a wee bit more time to spend on this one, which could possibly mean quicker updates. I don't know, school and work won't allow me to make promises. Second, I've decided to write up an outline of this story. It's taking a little longer than I thought, but I hope it will result in a better overall story with fewer inconsistencies. I kind of felt like that was a problem with A Betting Man, and I decided to learn from it. Also, as soon as I get it written up I'll let you all know how many chapters I plan for.

Lolypop82 has made some gorgeous (and hawt) manips for this story which I've linked on my profile. She's one talented lady. Go check them out.

ms-ambrosia and passionmama are awesome. In fact, their awesomeness just increases with every passing day. They both make this story so much better than what it would be, and I can't thank them enough for what they do.

You can follow me on twitter at mybluesky1 for teasers and updates. And I'll update as quickly as I can whether everyone reviews or not, but reviewers are super super cool. Just sayin' ;)

xo


	9. Chapter Eight

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

-x-x-x-x-

**Chapter 8 - Avoidance, Apologies, and an Ice Cream Fetish**

I have nothing to be jealous over.

We're not dating. We're barely anything at all. And even though we kissed just yesterday, I made it abundantly clear that I don't want to be anything more than friends. And while that rule extends to me, it means that he's allowed to date whoever he wants as well.

Not that they're dating. Not everyone dates every person they smile at.

_For fuck's sake, Bella. Get a grip. _

_Christ._

I try to stop my stalker-like spying. I really do. But I can't help but stare down the hallway until the redhead finally slinks away, saying things to Edward that I can't hear. They may as well have made out right there in middle of the nurses station for all the feelings it stirred inside of me. I'm sure Jessica is having a goddamn field day over witnessing my silent demise.

Edward hands the chart to someone and then turns to walk down the hallway. I immediately disappear inside the nurses station and search for something to do – anything to keep myself occupied while he's here.

I figure now is as good a time as any to check in on all my patients. Without a backwards glance, I sneak away from the nurses station and pray that someone is feeling needy. Preferably, it won't be anything that requires me leaving their room.

I'm in luck. One of my patients wants help going to the bathroom, and she's elderly and slow and breathes like she's just run a marathon by the time we make it back to the bed.

"Looks like I just got some _good_ exercise," she jokes happily, and I force a smile in response. I'm a little too preoccupied to express my joy over our successful ten-foot bathroom expedition right now.

More than anything, I'm bothered that I'm so bothered by this.

I decide to go to the bathroom myself. Maybe I can hang out there for a while and blame stomach cramps or something. I just don't feel like talking to Edward anymore. Not right now at least.

I have to pass the nurses station on my way, and I see him out of the corner of my eye. I don't make eye contact. I pretend that I don't know he's even there.

I realize how awful I'm acting, but it doesn't stop me.

I procrastinate for as long as I can in the bathroom. I eventually leave when someone pounds on the door a second time. It's Shelly, and I smile apologetically as we pass each other.

Edward is still at the nurses station when I return. It's possible he's waiting on me – something I didn't even think to consider before – and his eyes immediately meet mine as he smiles, a small crease of concern between his brows.

I am so fucked.

I finally approach him, conceding that I can't avoid him forever. I feel nervous. Tense. My palms are even sweating a little.

I sit across from him, forcing a smile, and try to appear nonchalant. "Hey," I say casually.

"Hey," he replies, his brows immediately pulling into a frown. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Another forced smile. Edward isn't convinced.

"If you say so."

"How's your day been?" I ask, quickly changing the subject. "Not extremely busy, I hope?"

"Not too bad. I still have three more floors to round on. I'm hoping to get out at least by three."

"Well good luck," I say sincerely. I may not be extremely happy with our circumstance – with the way I'm _feeling_ – but I know he's likely still tired and in need of sleep. He doesn't look much more well rested than he did yesterday.

"Thank you." He gives me a sincere, crooked smile, and I feel like shit. That's the only way to describe this…whatever it is.

Pure shit.

And I'm reminded exactly why I wanted to remain single for a while.

-x-x-

"Be careful, Dad. If you want to just leave it in the truck I can call someone to come help us bring it up."

"Don't be ridiculous, Bella. I may be old, but I'm not disabled. I can carry light furniture up a few stairs."

"It's a lot of stairs and it's not _that _light. And you know your back has been bad every since that car accident."

My father narrows his eyes at me, one side of his mustache twitching. It's possible he's trying to hide a smile, though with a hidden upper lip it's sometimes hard to tell.

"Don't you worry about my back, Bella. You let _me_ worry about my back."

My dad is here today to drop off a dining room table that he received from a friend. I assured him a table wasn't necessary – I usually just veg out on the sofa in front of the TV – but he insisted that you can't have a proper home without one. And who was I to argue?

"At least let me help," I insist, grabbing one edge of the table in preparation.

"Well of course you're gonna help. You didn't think you'd just stand there looking pretty while your old man did all the work, did you?"

He winks at me, and we heft the table off the ground and up the stairs. It's a slow process, with lots of muttered curse words and shouted instructions on his part, but eventually we make it inside the building, down the hallway, and into my apartment.

We have to go back for the chairs, but I insist on bringing them on the elevator. With everything set up, I stand back and examine my new piece. It's painted white and clashes horribly with my other mismatched decor, and it also looks like the leg on one of the chairs was chewed by a dog or something. But I suppose that's the price you pay when nearly all of your furniture is used and passed down from old friends.

"See?" My dad pats the table. "Now you have a proper place to eat."

I hold back a snort, because there's no way I'll ever eat here. But I suppose it'll be a good place to store some crap. Maybe I can put a filing cabinet underneath and make an office desk out of it.

"Yeah, Dad. It looks great." I give him a heartfelt smile, letting him know I truly appreciate the gesture.

"You hungry?" he asks me.

"Starving."

"Good. You can buy me some lunch."

-x-x-

We decide to eat at a deli, and the best part is that it has great desserts and coffee. We both order turkey sandwiches and then split a giant cookie, each of us indulging in a hot cup of joe. My father is certainly where I get my taste for coffee from – he drinks about five cups a day and still doesn't have a bit of trouble sleeping at night. I usually only drink one cup in the morning and maybe another later on if I need a pick-me-up, but I won't be surprised if I become a regular addict one day. I already get minor headaches if I try to skip my daily indulgence.

We talk about nothing in particular. Dad comments on how it's such a nuisance to drive in Seattle – it's far too busy compared to his quiet hometown of Forks. He also asks me if I've made any friends and wants to know how my job is going. I answer him truthfully each time.

"You been talking to any more boys yet?" He looks at me, quirking an eyebrow, and I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes.

"I don't know what you mean. I'm talking to you right now," I answer lamely, just being a smart-ass.

He knows what I'm doing and calls me on my bullshit right away. "I'm no boy, Bella," he informs me, matter-of-fact. "I'm your old man. And you know damn well what I mean."

I shake my head, my mouth full of cookie. Of course my mind is on Edward again, and stuffing my face with his preferred dessert isn't helping matters. But at least it's not a chocolate caramel-chunk cookie, though that does sound exceptionally delicious right now.

I swallow before answering. "Not really," I say.

"Mmm hmmm." He drinks his coffee, and I think his response sounds kind of cryptic.

"'Mmm hmmm' what?" I ask.

"Nothing. You're just a beautiful young girl, and I know lots of boys must be trying to talk to you."

"Don't talk crazy, Dad. Men aren't flocking to my doorstep or anything. This isn't Animal Kingdom."

"I know that, Bella. But I just worry about you. You're living in a big city by yourself. You were with that one boy a long time."

"Yeah, and now I've never been better," I assure him. This is somewhat true – I've been marginally happier since ridding myself of the drama associated with Alec, though constantly thinking of Edward is putting me on the verge of insanity.

"That may be. You don't need to rush into things with another boy anyway. Lord knows you're young. Your mother may disagree – I'm sure she'll be harping on you for grandbabies soon enough – but I think twenty-six is too young to be getting married. That's the problem with a lot of couples today – they get married before they have a chance to experience their life and then they're unhappy and they get a divorce. Just look at your mother, for example."

I want to disagree where my mother is concerned, but I don't dare. However, she did stay married to my dad for thirteen years. That's practically a lifetime for her.

"Well, Alec and I weren't talking about getting married. So it doesn't matter," I say, my interest on my cookie again. I'm tearing it into tiny pieces and eating them one by one.

Truthfully, that was one of the many problems when it came to Alec. We never talked about getting married.

Five years together and no talk of marriage. That's a red flag if I've ever seen one.

"That's good. He wasn't good for ya," my father grunts. "A man who can't keep it in his pants isn't good for society, much less my baby girl."

_Oh dear God_. Please tell me my father didn't just refer to Alec's "it."

"I know Dad. Trust me," I say, hoping to placate him so we can get off this God-forsaken subject.

But he goes on. "You should get yourself an older boy next time," he says. "They're more mature and ready to settle down. They're not unpredictable the way the youngins are."

Alec was older than me, but only by two years. Edward has to at least be in his thirties. Then again, I'm not sure why I'm even considering Edward's age, seeing as how I've been ignoring his texts ever since his encounter with the redhead. I finally just decided that I should stop talking to him for a while, because I'm obviously getting too attached. This jealousy business opened my eyes to exactly how much I like him, and I think it's best to just step back for now.

Not that completely ignoring him was the best way to go about it, but if we start texting, then I'll probably give in and keep talking to him. I'll probably even let him kiss me again, come to think of it, and that's exactly what I don't want happening.

My dad finishes his coffee and waves the server over for a refill. He can tell my thoughts are elsewhere, I'm sure, but he doesn't comment on it.

He sets his fresh cup down and looks at me.

"So…when are you gonna come visit your old man?"

-x-x-

My dad comes upstairs for a few minutes, but leaves just a little after four o'clock so that he can beat the Seattle traffic and make it home at a decent time for bed. I watch TV for a little while and then check the fridge for something to snack on. But I have nothing.

I go to the grocery store and shop slowly, buying a few things that I can fix to eat at home. I normally eat easy things like sandwiches or soup or else I just order out. Cooking just for myself is too much trouble.

My phone rings while I'm shopping. It's Edward, and I still don't answer. I feel a little guilty as I put my phone on silent and stash it inside my purse.

I come across the freezer section and pick out four different flavored pints of Ben & Jerry's. I'm not planning on crying and eating my weight in chocolate or anything, but one of my life goals is to try every flavor before I die. I figure I might as well get a head start in case something happens.

After I've made my purchases and loaded everything into my car, I check my phone again. Edward has texted me.

_Are you ignoring me_?

I guess nothing gets past him – not that I'm not being painfully obvious or anything. I'm either ignoring him or I've fallen off of the earth.

I feel like shit again. I should just talk to him and explain how I'm feeling rather than acting like the petulant child I've become. Though truthfully, I didn't really think he'd continue to try and contact me the way he has. I figured he'd take a hint early on and decide I'm not worth the trouble.

I slide onto the driver's seat and debate texting him back. Finally, I decide I'll just call him when I get home and slip my car into reverse, slowly pulling away from the store.

I have music playing inside my car, but I don't hear a single word. My thoughts are plagued with what I plan to tell Edward. I even develop a strategy in case he tries to woo me again, and this ends up being very thought-consuming.

At my apartment, I unload my car, determined to get it all in one go. My arms are pulled straight to my sides with the heavy bags as I head towards the front of the building, my fingers feeling like they're going to rip from their sockets with the weight. I look down at the plastic bags, struggling to get a better grip, and when I raise my eyes again, I'm immediately met with a set of bright green.

Edward is sitting on the steps outside the building. Edward, still in his scrubs – no lab coat – with his hair a mess, his eyes tired. He stands immediately, rushing forward to help me with my bags, and all I can do is stare at him.

"What are you doing here?" I finally ask as he removes the weight from my fingers. The sight of him along with the rush of blood to my fingertips brings sweet relief; I've never been so simultaneously happy and afraid.

He sighs and says, "I'm trying to find out what's going on with you." His tone isn't hard, but it cuts me just the same.

"Nothing's going on with me," I reply, keeping my voice casual. "And I can get those." I gesture towards my bags, but he already has them in his hands and doesn't move to give them back.

"I've got them," he says shortly.

We begin walking towards the entrance of the building.

"So you're not ignoring me?" he asks skeptically, and he already knows the answer. I blush a little and wish I would have just called him on my way home. Then I would have some type of defense, however lame it may be.

"It's complicated," I tell him. "You probably won't even understand."

"Try me."

"There's no rule that says I have to return all your phone calls, you know. We're not dating."

He looks at me out of the corner of his eye, and I can tell I've hurt his feelings. His brow furrows and his lips purse. I wish I wouldn't have said anything.

"Yeah, well it's a pretty shitty thing to do, Bella," he says, exasperated, and I hit the button to call the elevator. "If you decide you don't want to talk to me anymore I'd at least like a little notice or a reason why. I mean one day you're kissing me and the next you won't even talk to me."

"You kissed me," I remind him.

"And you kissed me back. I've _never_ forced myself on you," he responds indignantly.

His voice carries across the lobby, and man coming off the stairs turns to gape at us as he passes. Edward and I quiet down for just a moment.

Luckily, the doors to the elevator part and we quickly step inside. We're the only people in the tiny space and the tension is thick as we begin to rise.

"So are you going to tell me what this is about?" he asks again, his voice calm.

"It's nothing. I'm not upset about anything," I lie. Well, technically I'm lying, I guess. I'm not necessarily upset with Edward for talking to his ex – he's allowed to talk to whoever he wants – but I'm upset over the way I feel about it.

"You're lying," he says simply, and I'm caught off guard. Am I really that transparent?

"No I'm not," I lie again.

"Alice said you saw me with Victoria."

"Who's Victoria?" I ask snidely, and then I quickly get myself in check and try to take the edge out of my voice. Edward casts me a look.

"Dr. Ellis. Sorry."

Hearing Edward refer to her by her first name does nothing to abate that feeling I have. If anything, it makes it a hundred times worse.

"So? I mean yeah, I saw you together. Why would that bother me?" I'm not sure if my voice is coming out as assured and collected as I'm hoping it to be. The elevator doors open and we step out.

"You're a terrible liar, Bella."

_Damn it._

"I'm not lying."

"You know, I really don't get you," he says, irritated. I quickly unlock the door with my key and push it open, admitting us both inside. "You say you don't want to be more than friends right now, which is fine. I keep hoping you'll change your mind about it, but I understand if you have your reasons for not wanting to get involved right now." He sets the bags on my new table and all but glares at me, and I realize I don't like angry Edward very much at all. "What I don't get is why you would completely stop talking to me simply because I spoke to a female coworker. Especially since you insist on being 'just friends.'"

His words hit me a lot harder than I thought they would, and suddenly I can feel my throat burning as tears threaten to surface. He's right, of course; I'm being an asshole and my actions certainly aren't fair to him.

And what's worse is that I don't _want_ to make him upset. I don't _want_ to make him angry. And yet here I am, doing both of those things simply because I'm confused over our new situation and the things I'm feeling.

I turn away from him and stand there a moment, trying to fight back the tears. I never meant to become so emotional, and the last thing I want is for Edward to think I'm trying to guilt him with another of my many mood swings. I can sense his presence behind me, and after a few seconds pass, he places a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Bella, look at me," he says softly, any trace of anger suddenly gone from his voice. I blink rapidly before turning around, hoping to clear my face of this overwhelming emotion I'm suddenly feeling.

But Edward sees everything. He reaches forward to brush my cheek with his thumb, sighing quietly. "I'm not trying to upset you, Bella," he says gently. "I just can't figure out what the hell you're thinking."

I shake my head, slowly casting my eyes to the floor. "I don't know what I'm thinking either," I finally admit.

"Well…at least I'm not the only one," he jokes lightly.

I managed to keep the tears at bay, but my nose is beginning to run a little. I try to refrain from sniffing so that I don't broadcast the confused, emotional mess I really am.

"You said you liked me the other day," he continues, and his hand is still near my face, his thumb still grazing my skin. "You may not have known what you were getting yourself into at the time, but I'll have you know I took you seriously. You'll have a hell of a time getting rid of me now."

His tone is light, almost joking, but the words stir something deep inside of me and I find myself raising my eyes to meet his piercing gaze.

"I'm sorry I ignored you," I say sincerely. I wipe my nose, trying to muffle the sniffle behind my hand. "And I _do_ like you. That's why everything is so confusing to me right now."

His body is close to mine. Just a few inches separate our chests.

"Why is it confusing?"

"I just got out of a very long, stressful relationship, Edward. That's why."

"Will you tell me about it?" he asks, and I sigh, finally stepping away from him so that I can begin putting away my groceries. I probably have four pints of different flavored melted goo by now.

"What do you want to know?" I ask. I figure, all things considered, I at least owe him this much.

"How long did you date?" Edward begins unloading the bags onto the table. He's trying to help, and things suddenly feel a little lighter between us.

"A little over five years," I answer.

"Why did you break up?"

"He cheated on me."

Edward's eyes meet mine, a loaf of bread in his hand. "Then that guy's a fucking idiot. You realize that, right?"

I snort, though it's really not that funny. I take the bread from Edward's hand so that I can put it away. "That's sweet of you, Edward. But trust me, things weren't that great between us for a while. It's not really that much of a surprise."

"Then he didn't try hard enough," Edward says simply.

"You hardly know me, Edward," I counter, keeping my voice light. Sure, we've gone out and kissed a few times, but we still haven't known each other long.

I turn around to find him unloading my ice cream from a bag, one eyebrow raised in interest.

"I know you have some kind of weird Ben & Jerry fetish," he jokes, cracking a smile. I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing out of pure mortification at the situation.

"That's not what it looks like," I say, sounding exactly like some sort of addict as I take the cartons from him. I juggle all four in my hands and struggle to open the freezer. "These have a purpose. I'm gonna try every flavor before I die," I explain.

Edward whistles. "Wow. You're a little young to be starting a bucket list though, don't you think?"

"Now seems like a good a time as any. And it's not like eating every flavor will be torture."

"Fair enough."

"Did you have any more questions concerning my sad, sordid love life?"

"Actually, yes. How serious were you guys?" Edward looks at me, patient but expectant.

"What do you mean?"

"Were you engaged? Living together?"

"We lived together, yes. We weren't engaged. We didn't really talk about getting married."

Edward hums to himself, but doesn't say more. The groceries are almost completely put away, and we complete the remaining task in silence.

When we finish, I lean against the counter. Edward walks over and joins me, his shoulder nearly touching mine.

"Will you tell me about Dr. Ellis?" I ask him, my voice hesitant. I'm not really worried about his reaction, but I felt like I owed him my explanation regarding Alec. He, on the other hand, doesn't really owe me anything. He didn't act like a total douche for a day and a half.

"Sure," he says, turning his face to mine. His green eyes are sincere, his face passive. I want to close the small gap of space between us and snuggle against him, but I feel like that would be counterproductive right now.

"Did you guys date?" I ask.

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"Around a year. And then we were on and off again for a few months."

"Are you still friends?"

"We don't hang out after work or anything, if that's what you mean," he answers. "But yes, we talk to each other at work. We're civil."

I nod thoughtfully. That's a perfectly acceptable explanation, though I still dislike the image of her touching him, however casual those touches may be.

"Why did you break up?" I go on.

"It just didn't work out."

"Then who broke up with whom?"

"I broke up with her."

"Did you live together?"

"No. But we stayed at each other's place most of the time."

I realize I don't like the idea of him staying at her place, or she at his, but I guess it's not really any of my business whether or not I like it. It's in the past, anyway. And though this information bothers me, Edward is being nothing but honest.

I shift against the counter and look down at my feet.

"I'm sorry I ignored you," I say again.

"You already apologized," he points out.

"I know. But you're right, it was a really shitty thing to do. I should have just talked to you and told you I needed some space."

Edward looks at me, his eyes searching my face. "Do you still want some space?" he asks hesitantly, and I can tell he doesn't want me to make him leave. And though I should say yes, and push him out the door, I just can't make myself form the words.

"I don't…I don't want you to go," I finally answer, because it's the only truth that makes any sense. Edward nods slightly, then lifts his arm, an invitation to move closer.

"Come here," he says, and I'm moving closer to him before I can think over this decision, practically melting against his body as he pulls me into his arms. My nose presses directly into his chest, and he smells like the hospital and faded soap.

Everything feels better here. His lips press against my forehead, and I hear him breathe me in as his chest expands and falls. I don't want to move away. I want to stop thinking, to get lost in this moment.

"I don't want to push you into anything you're not ready for," he murmurs against my skin. "You'd just resent me in the long run, wondering if things would be different had I let you do things at your own pace. I get that, I really do. We can be friends for a while, if that's what you want."

I'm surprised by these words. The pull in my chest tightens, and I press against him just a little more firmly.

"Does that mean no more kissing?" I ask, my voice somewhat muffled against his chest. The question is meant to be a joke, but it doesn't really come out that way.

I feel Edward's lips pull into a smile against my forehead.

"You know I'm all for the kissing," he replies, his voice teasing.

"Kissing you is probably a bad idea," I muse, my voice teasing.

"Why is that?"

"You know why."

"Mmm. Maybe I need a reminder," he teases, and I lift my head to playfully scowl at him.

As much as I want to lean forward and kiss him right _now_, I refrain. Because I'm right, for once. Kissing him only increases the pull in my chest. It only makes me think of him more often.

And I have something more serious to discuss, though forming the words is almost painful. But they need to be said, because it's a problem that could cause a greater rift between us if we're not sure exactly where we stand with each other.

It's time to lay all our cards on the table. And I need to just rip off the bandaid.

Unable to think of more metaphors in which to stall the discussion, I spit it out. "What about dating…you know…other people?" I ask him.

His teasing smile falters, and it's the exact expression I dreaded seeing. I'm probably hurting his feelings all over again. "Are you going to?"

"That's half the point of staying single, isn't it?" I ask. "If I'm not allowed to date then it's like I'm in a relationship…"

"You can date," he interrupts me. "You can do whatever you want, Bella. It's not like you have any sort of obligations to me."

He smiles, but it's clearly forced. And his words bother me more than they should.

But I need to do this for myself. I need to see what else is out there. I don't want to be an old woman who ponders her life and wonders if things would be different had I not rushed everything all the time.

"You can see other people too," I quickly say, but the words are like acid on my tongue. They're wrong. All wrong.

"Right," he says with a nod. "I know."

I rest my head against his chest again, reveling in the warmth and hardness of his body. I don't want the moment to end. Despite our conversation about seeing other people, I don't want to let him go.

And I don't want that skanky Dr. Ellis getting her claws into him again. Yet it's not exactly reasonable to ask him to wait on me.

I imagine what that conversation would be like.

_"Oh Edward, please just sit back and watch from afar while I hold hands with and kiss other boys. You, on the other hand, must drive your celibacy-wagoned ass to work everyday. No pootang for you until I decide I'm ready. Sound good, darling?"_

I sigh against his chest. If only.

"Do you want to watch a movie or something?" I eventually ask him. My irrational side is hoping we can cuddle on the couch some more. It's wrong, but I can't seem to help myself.

He hesitates, and then finally releases me. "Sure," he says.

"Okay. Umm…you can have some of my Ben & Jerry's if you want," I tell him. "I don't mind you helping me complete my bucket list." Edward just smiles. "Or do you want something to drink? I have Kool-Aid," I offer. "Or…water."

Edward's smile morphs into a small grin. "Your really good Kool-Aid?" he asks me, recalling my earlier assurance.

"Of course."

"I'm fine right now. Thank you, though."

"Okay. Do you mind if I go change then? You can pick out a movie while you wait. Make yourself comfortable on the couch."

"Sure."

I go to my bedroom, picking out some modest and comfortable pajama clothes. I wish I had something to offer Edward besides his scrubs, but at least they're not overly uncomfortable. I get changed and go into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I don't plan on kissing him, but I'm still more comfortable when my breath is fresh.

It's irrational of me to do so, considering he just saw me five minutes ago, but I end up fussing over my hair for a moment and then debate on whether or not to wear a bra. The tank top I have on has a built-in bra, but sometimes my nipples are visible beneath the fabric. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to put on a show right after the conversation we just had. In fact, it would probably be wise if I wore a bulky sweater.

So a bra it is.

With everything tucked and adequately covered, I make my way back into the living room, pausing when I find Edward already dozing on the couch. He's still sitting up, his elbow propped on the armrest and his head propped in his hand, and doesn't stir at my approach.

I look at the clock on the wall, trying to gauge how long I was gone for. I think only about ten minutes.

The long hours at work must have finally caught up to him.

I bite my lip, trying to decide whether or not to wake him. His face is relaxed, his shoulders slumped. He's gorgeous even in his sleep, and I find myself wishing I could crawl into his lap and curl up with him.

I don't know if my resolve to stay single is going to work out, but I think I like Edward even more for giving me the opportunity to try.

I grab a book and sit down in the armchair to read. Edward sleeps soundly, only stirring once to get into a more comfortable position. After watching him a moment, I rise from my seat to make a sandwich. He never wakes, even after all the noise I make.

I eat quickly, then move over to Edward and coax him into a better position. I try to ignore the way I feel when I touch him – the way I feel when he sighs - and with enough prompting, he slides down on the couch until he's lying. I pull off his shoes and get a cover from the closet to throw over him.

I kneel in front of him and sigh deeply, my eyes raking over each little detail of his face – the sharpness of his jaw, his eyelashes, his cheekbones, his dark eyebrows and defined lips.

I look at him, and I wonder if I'm really making the right decision.

* * *

A/N: *Sigh* Silly Bella...

Special thanks to the fantastic duo ms-ambrosia and passionmama for all their work with this story.

A lot of people are asking me if Milky Way coffee is real. Let me assure you, my sweets, it is VERY REAL and muchos delicious. It's actually a Flavia flavor pack, and works the way I described in the story. And I actually really tried it at the doctor's lounge where I work. Damn, spoiled doctors ;) Here is a link to the flavor pack if ya wanna see, and it looks like they even make Dove flavors (yum!): www(dot)nutmegstatecoffee(dot)com(slash)products(dot)asp?cat=25

Next update will probably be at least two weeks from now. Sorry, I have a lot going on this week and doubt I'll have time to write. But I'll keep you posted on twitter if you follow. Also, I'm still working on the outline, but will hopefully be done by the next time I update.

I'm also planning on writing another EPOV outtake soon. Anything in particular you guys want to see?

I'm mybluesky1 on twitter. Thanks so much for all the reviews. I love you guys lots...

xoxo


	10. Chapter Nine

A/N: This is the longest chapter yet...nearly 9K! - and almost a whole week early. Only cause I love you guys...

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

x-x-x-x

**Chapter 9 - Hello Sexual Innuendo**

I have a very restless night.

Tossing and turning, I can't help but think over everything Edward and I talked about. The conversation plagues my mind, as well as images of Dr. Ellis leaning in close to whisper in his ear. I never meant to garner such an attachment to Edward, but his persistence has left little room for much else.

What is this attachment? Just a fascination? An attraction to his charm and good looks? Would giving up this time for myself be worth it in the end, when the excitement of experiencing something new has faded away?

It's frustrating. I shouldn't be feeling this way. I should be strong-willed and free-spirited, not bitter and loathing some woman I've never even met. Hell, she may actually be nice... Wait, what the hell am I saying? She's a _surgeon_. Surgeons are like the goddamn antichrist of the medical field. Every successful surgery is like another pump of air in their gigantic, inflated heads. Of course she isn't nice.

At least this is what I tell myself. Being a surgeon is already a big enough draw for a man like Edward. Throw in the fact that his father likes her and she's _nice_ and well...I may be screwed. Figuratively, of course. I haven't gotten any good action in an alarmingly long time. It only took about three years before Alec and I turned into the perfect brother/sister couple. He was more like a cockblocking roommate than a lover.

This lack of literal screwing may be a big source of my frustrations. But now I'm cockblocking myself, which really makes no sense. I just figure if I _did _sleep with Edward, I'd probably want to do it again and again. I'd probably become even more attached, and seeing as how I already think about him constantly, it would only be a matter of seconds before I get sucked into the deep vortex of another relationship.

I really only come to one solid conclusion during my sleepless night, and it's that I don't _want_ to want Edward. And that's a big problem, seeing as how everything he does makes me want him a thousand times more.

What little sleep I do get doesn't really feel like sleep at all. I'm teetering on consciousness, never able to fully let go of my worries. I wake a little after seven and find myself creeping out of my bedroom, wondering if he'll still be on the couch.

He is. The blanket still covers him, one leg draped over the edge. His right arm is slung across his eyes to block the incoming light from the window. He's got stubble forming on his jaw, and I can see the darker shade against his light skin from several feet away.

I hesitate near the hallway a moment, wondering if I should just go back to my bedroom and give him more time to sleep. It's still early, and if I start rummaging around in the kitchen, I may wake him.

But I'm drawn to him. I step closer, until I'm only a foot or so away. I could easily reach down and touch him. And I want to.

_Oh_, how I want to.

Suddenly, Edward springs out of his supposed sleep coma and lunges, grabbing at my shirt. It scares the ever-loving shit out of me and I scream, a loud, petrified sound, and try to get away, but it's no use – with my shirt in his hand, he pulls me closer until he can reach my flailing arm and pulls me down on top of him.

He locks both arms around my body in a tight grip, refusing to let me move. My heart thunders like a jack hammer against my chest, a sporadic rhythm that pounds in my ears. And I may have peed just a little.

"What the hell was _that_?" I wheeze, breathless from fright. I wiggle to try and smack his chest, but my arm is bound. "You scared the hell out of me!"

Edward just chuckles calmly, the vibrations soothing against my flushed body.

"How did you know I was standing there?" I go on, aghast.

"I heard you breathing. You sounded a little asthmatic over there," is his cool reply.

"I did not!" I argue, mortified.

"How else would I have heard you?"

I bury my face into his chest, breathing him in, and rethink my decision from the night before. Yes, he just scared the piss out of me – maybe literally, though that still needs to be confirmed - but if I'm being completely honest, I'm more awake now than I would be after twenty cups of coffee. Not to mention I'm insanely comfortable lying on his chest this way. Or maybe I'm just going comatose now that my rush of adrenaline is wearing off.

Either way, I could get used to this.

"How long have you been awake?" I ask, my words muffled against him. His grip hasn't lessened, but I can't say I mind.

"I don't know. Like half an hour."

I raise my head to look at him, and then wiggle my right arm free so that I can cover my mouth with my hand. "Sorry you slept on the couch. I thought about waking you last night."

Edward smirks. "Why? Planning on inviting me to bed?" he asks coyly.

I gasp in disbelief and smack his chest. "No, perv," I say, immediately covering my mouth again. "Not even in your dreams."

His smile lingers, though he looks at me curiously. "What are you doing?"

Shifting to cover my mouth a bit better, I say, "Trying not to kill you with my morning breath."

He removes an arm from around me so that he can wave a hand in front of his face. "Might want to try a little harder," he jokes.

"So says the guy who didn't brush last night," I hastily quip, and Edward frowns briefly before attacking my side with his fingers. I squeal at his assault and wiggle on top of him, fully prepared to fling myself head-first into the coffee table if that's what it takes. But as soon as I try to get away he flips me over, all but lying on top of me as he pins me down with his body. I can barely breathe.

"Say you're sorry!" he taunts as he squishes me.

"No!" I grunt.

"Say it!"

"Ughh…I can't…breaatthhee!"

"Say it and it'll all be over, Bella!"

He puts even more weight on me, and it takes all the energy I have to muster out the words. "I'm sorry! I'm…uugghhh!"

He finally eases off, allowing me to greedily suck air into my lungs. "You jackass!" I pant as I shove him. "Are you trying to freakin kill me? It's not even eight a.m.!"

I'm not really mad, but he doesn't know this. Not that he cares. He just chuckles and shifts his weight to my left, pinning me between his body and the back of the couch.

"You shouldn't be so stubborn," he comments, brushing the hair back from my face. His words are simple, yet they hold so much meaning.

The claustrophobia hits me suddenly, and I feel as though I'm suffocating next to him. I scramble to get up, to put some distance between us before I go mad. He doesn't try to stop me as I crawl over his body and regain my footing on the floor.

"You want some breakfast?" I ask pleasantly, and I smooth my shirt, attempting to hide my mini-freakout over what was possibly an innocent comment. But Edward cocks an eyebrow at me, somehow never missing a thing.

"I should probably go," he says, sitting up. "I have a lot to do today. It's been a while since I was off and able to run errands."

I nod in understanding. "Okay."

"What are your plans?"

"I'm going to meet Alice for lunch. And then I have a few errands to run too."

He looks at me, smiling halfheartedly. His clothing is rumpled, his cheeks flushed from our play. "No big dates planned?" he asks, and I feel my chest tighten uncomfortably as I frown.

"It's not like that, Edward. I'm not running around looking for other guys to go out with…"

"I know, I know," he interrupts me. He scratches the back of his head and says, "I shouldn't have said anything. Sorry."

I sit beside him on the couch, already uncomfortable with the quick turn our morning has taken. But I expected no less. "It's fine," I assure him, smiling lightly. "You already know I like you. You got that much out of me at least." He smirks, and I roll my eyes. "But I told you, Edward…I just don't think I'm ready for this right now."

He scoots in closer to me on the couch, and just his proximity sends my blood racing.

"I remember," he says softly. He leans in, running his nose lightly along my temple, and I struggle to remain coherent.

"Then what are you doing?" My voice is just a strained whisper. I can't find the strength to speak with more conviction.

His nose moves to my hairline, his breath warm against my skin. His body is close and I feel enveloped by him, even though we're barely touching.

"I'm just biding my time, Bella," he finally murmurs against me.

I shiver at his words.

-x-x-

Edward makes a quick visit to the bathroom before he leaves, and we don't make plans to see each other later. I assume he's probably giving me the space I've been insisting on. That, or he'll just blow up my phone with text messages when he's done with his errands. Or maybe he won't.

I've decided I shouldn't worry about it.

Forcing him from my mind, I meet Alice at a small restaurant located in downtown Seattle just a little before noon. There's another girl with her, though I wasn't aware she was bringing someone. The girl is slim and pretty, with dirty blonde hair and pale blue eyes.

She smiles at me as I approach the table. Alice catches her gaze and turns to me, grinning. "Hey Bella!" she greets me. "This is Irina. She used to work on our floor. She didn't have any plans for lunch so we were talking and I invited her along. Is that okay?"

I smile politely. "Yeah, of course. I'm Bella," I introduce myself. I take a seat beside Alice, across from Irina.

"Alice has been telling me all about you," Irina says, and I notice she speaks with a slight accent. But I can't peg where it's from. "She said you just moved here."

"Yeah, I did. From Florida."

"I've always wanted to go to Florida. I hear they have beautiful beaches."

"They do. Perfect, white sand," I say, smiling. I already miss the close proximity to those sandy beaches – and the sunny weather – but I don't say more on the subject.

"I ordered us appetizers. They should be here soon," Alice supplies.

"Great."

We order and tuck into our meals, the three of us chatting as if we've known each other forever. Irina is easy to talk to. It turns out that she and Alice have been friends for about four years, and she worked on the floor at our hospital before leaving to work in case management at a local rehab. She says she still comes through from time to time and I would likely see her around.

We're nearly finished with our meals when the dreaded subject of my love life comes up. I'm not sure why people take such an interest in it. It's quite a sad, depressing little affair – like watching a movie where everyone dies. Except in my case, it was my sex life that went down with the ship.

"She wants to stay single," Alice is calmly explaining to Irina. "Though Edward has been all over her. You should have seen him asking me about her the other day. It was really cute."

I'm not sure what Alice is talking about, but I plan to figure it out whenever we're alone.

Irina raises her eyebrows at me. "You mean Dr. Cullen? _That_ Edward?"

"Yup," Alice says smugly. "I knew they'd be a good match. She pissed him off one day and he hasn't been able to stay away since. You know how guys can be." She rolls her eyes for effect.

"Ah," says Irina. "So the one girl who isn't throwing herself at his feet is the one he wants." She looks at me. "Good job. You probably snagged yourself the cutest doc in Seattle. Well, aside from his father, I mean." She fans herself and I make a face.

"Gross. His father?"

"Do _not_ underestimate his father," she warns me. "The Cullens age well. It's a known fact. They both get hotter every year."

"It's true," Alice says simply, nodding.

"Yep. So you should be all on that. Good genes and all. Just pray for a boy, of course, because girls never age well the way men do, no matter how good the gene pool is."

"What?" I ask, aghast. "Are you seriously suggesting I try to go get knocked up?" I can't believe the direction our conversation has taken. I've only known Edward for what…three weeks? And we barely got along for a third of the time.

"I already told her they'd have beautiful babies," Alice supplies.

"Oh, definitely."

I'd be embarrassed if I wasn't still in total disbelief. I can't believe how similar these two are – complete opposites in terms of looks, but their personalities are spot-on. It's kind of creepy.

Alice is talking again. "I told her there's nothing wrong with hitting it. Didn't I, Bella?"

"Something like that," I say grudgingly, sipping my water. My mind reels, desperately trying to think of something to get us off this godforsaken topic.

"Nah, you can't just hit it," Irina argues, and I'm amazed they're actually disagreeing on something. "Unless that's all you want. Because having casual sex changes the way a man looks at you. He'll just see you as a sex object. And possibly a slut."

"That's not always true," says Alice. "It depends on the man."

"I read it in Cosmo, Alice. Of course it's true."

Alice sighs, opening her mouth to argue further, but I quickly interrupt them. "It doesn't matter," I say. "I already decided I'm not into that. I don't think I could do casual sex."

"Good," Irina says happily. "Why do you want to stay single anyway?"

I explain the story to her, rehashing the frustrations I experienced with Alec and the need to discover myself as my own person for a while. Irina listens carefully, commenting here and there. When it's done, she says, "So you want to date other people?"

"Not necessarily," I reply. "But I mean, if I meet someone I like, I want to be able to date them. I want to have the _choice _of whether or not to go out with them, because I've never really had that experience before. You know?"

Alice rolls her eyes while Irina nods thoughtfully. Picking at a piece of leftover bread, Irina says, "In that case, my stepbrother is coming into town tomorrow. He's staying with me and I haven't had a chance to see Brady much lately." I assume she's referring to her boyfriend, and her large, pale eyes meet mine. "Double date with us?" she asks hopefully. "Keep him entertained for an hour or two?"

Alice nearly chokes beside me. "She's not going out with him!" she exclaims angrily. "It's only a matter of time before she comes to her senses. Are you _trying_ to scare Edward away?"

I look at Alice in alarm, a little shocked by her outburst.

"I can make my own decisions, you know," I say irritably.

"It's just one date," Irina protests. "As a favor to me. Peter will be going back to Ohio next week. It's not like he's going to sweep her away." She snorts after she says this, meeting Alice's gaze. Alice's eyes widen imperceptibly, her mouth remaining closed.

I consider agreeing but, ironically, it suddenly doesn't seem like a desirable way to spend my evening. In fact, it almost feels like a betrayal to Edward…even though we discussed this, and agreed that we're only friends. Friends who may or may not kiss occasionally, and who may or may not fantasize about the other naked…wearing only a stethoscope. Or maybe that's just me.

Goddamn it.

"I don't really think it's a good idea," I say, trying to force an apologetic smile. "Sorry."

"Oh, come on! Please?" Irina begs. "Just _one_ date! No more, I promise. And I won't even give him your number or anything. It'll be a _huge_ favor to me. And I'll owe you."

I remember Edward's face when we talked about dating other people and feel dreadful.

"I don't think so, Irina…" I say quietly.

She huffs, settling back into her seat. "You might as well be exclusive with Edward, then," she says, irritated. "If you're going to let him prevent you from going out with other people and all. I'm not asking you to marry the guy. I'm just asking you to talk to him for an hour so he'll leave me and Brady the hell alone."

I look to Alice, but she's being silent for once. Suspiciously silent.

"I'll think about it," I finally say, emotionally spent, and Irina grins broadly in response.

-x-x-

I actually do spend a lot of time thinking about this – as well as a lot of time turning Irina down again and again – but her persistence eventually pays off, and I find myself begrudgingly agreeing to the date. Maybe it will be sufficient to get the whole 'dating' thing out of my system, and then I can finally quit over-thinking everything and relax.

I don't spend much time on clothing or makeup. My clothes are casual, my hair straight and simple. I don't really want to impress this guy; as insistent as I was on being able to date, I'm already regretting the decision. My heart just isn't in it.

I meet them at the restaurant. I feel better this way, because it means I'm free to leave at my own will. I don't want the guy to have to drive me home, or to walk me to my door where an awkward conversation is sure to follow. I've barely dated, but isn't that how it always happens? A guy walks you to your door and tries to steal a smooch? It's like an expectation, and I'm taking every precaution to avoid it.

I see Irina right away, and she's sitting beside a dark-haired man with broad shoulders. I don't see anyone else at the table. She waves me over, excited.

"Hi Bella," she says when I approach. "This is Brady. Brady, Bella."

"Hi," I say, smiling politely. I sit across from them and get comfortable. "Where's um…where's Peter?"

"Gone, if we're lucky," Brady chortles, and I look at him in surprise. Irina elbows him in the ribs.

"Stop it, Brady," she scolds.

"You know I'm joking, baby."

I'm confused, and frankly, a wee bit uncomfortable. Why the hell does Brady want him to be gone? I'm so wrapped up in gruesome scenarios that I barely notice when someone slides in next to me, plopping down with great gusto. I turn to see a tall man – or at least he seems tall, considering he's sitting – with short, blonde hair and green eyes. But they're not green like Edward's – they're darker, less vibrant. Nothing special. The man is thin and wears a salmon-colored polo shirt, his hair pushed back and neatened with gel. And he reeks of cologne.

"Bella!" he says happily. "I'm Peter. It's nice to meet you." He leans over and hugs me, taking me by surprise. I catch Irina trying to hide her smile. Even Brady looks on with interest.

"Hi…uhh…nice to meet you," I grunt, discreetly pushing him away. I feel like someone has tipped my head back and poured a bottle of cologne down my nose. The smell isn't bad, but the copious amount is nearly revolting.

"I've already heard so much about you," he says, winking at Irina.

"All good stuff," Irina assures me, and I force a smile while stealthily turning to my menu.

It turns out that Peter talks _a lot_. I can barely get in a word edgewise, and Brady and Irina are soon immersed in their own conversation, tuning us out and getting the relief she so obviously wanted. I study my food, hmming in all the right places as Peter tells me about his family, how his and Irina's parents met, about his dog that lives back in Ohio. On and on and on he goes, and I eventually begin to wonder if Irina secretly hates me.

She sneaks me sly looks occasionally, sometimes smiling, sometimes simply observing. Inwardly, I tune Peter out and mull over the fact that if I hadn't been such a dumbass yesterday, I could be at home kissing Edward or something much…naughtier.

I pass the time by imagining these naughty things I could do to him. Peter barely notices that I'm not paying attention to what he's saying. He eventually asks Irina something, and she's reluctantly pulled into his one-sided conversation.

Peter takes a bite of his dessert, then gets a spoonful and tries to feed it to me. I've never been so horrified at having chocolate cake fly at my face.

"I'm full," I tell him, trying to dodge his attempts.

"Just one bite, Bella. I just want you to taste how delicious it is."

"I'm not hungry…"

"Just _one_ bite!"

I look to Irina for help, but she's just _allowing_ this slow torture. I want to jump across the table and strangle her. Every time a spoonful of cake nearly gauges out my eye, I get more and more irritated. I'm insanely close to prying the spoon away and committing some sort of brother-sister violence with it.

Brady finally takes pity on me. Or else he's receiving second-hand annoyance, as palpable as my irritation must be. "Dude, she said she doesn't want the cake."

Peter huffs, but thankfully relents. He pops the spoon into his own mouth with a slight scowl and takes the next few bites in a surprising silence.

I'm sure we must be planning on leaving soon – Peter is finishing up his dessert, after all – but Irina and Brady make no plan to move, simply sipping their wine and talking. I wonder if it would be rude of me to leave before them, and then I wonder if I even care about being rude.

With no food to occupy his hands, Peter eventually tries to grab my hand underneath the table. His palms are slightly sweaty, and the thought of him touching me literally makes my stomach roll. I pull my hand from his and clasp my hands together in my lap.

I try to be patient, but Irina and Brady are still chatting away twenty minutes later. Peter is going on about a giant car wash in Ohio – apparently it's like the freakin mother ship of all other carwashes in the continental U.S. It takes all of my reserve not to order a shot or five, and I finally excuse myself to the bathroom, wondering how much time I can waste there.

Irina follows me in a few seconds later. "Hey. Are you okay?" she asks, joining me as I stand in front of the sinks.

"What do you think?" I ask irritably. "Your brother was trying to accost me with a spoonful of cake, and now he's been going on for the past half hour about an automatic carwash. For the love of everything holy, _no_, I am not okay."

"Hey, he's my _stepbrother_," she says, offended. "And you seemed to be really into the carwash story. You were leaning in...in fact, you two looked a little cozy together." She's clearly trying to hold back laughter. I'm not amused.

"Oh my God." Pretending to be sick, I put a hand up to my mouth, my eyes wide. Irina looks at me with concern, and I eventually wave off her worries. "Sorry, I just threw up in my mouth a little bit," I tell her.

She smirks at me, obviously amused. "Okay, so he's completely lame. But hey…welcome to the dating world, Bella," she says happily.

I look at her through the mirror, my eyebrows furrowed with disbelief. "This is _not_ the dating world. Your brother is a disturbing exception to everything right in the male community."

"Stepbrother," she says again. "And you'd be surprised. Not all guys are Dr. Hotties."

I roll my eyes. Is this why she wanted me to come out tonight? So I could compare Edward to the most annoying male on the planet and appreciate what I'm missing?

Seems kind of sneaky, but I wouldn't put it past her.

"Why did you set me up with him?" I ask.

"I told you, I wanted you to keep him occupied. Or Brady did, I should say. He drives us insane." She looks at me, her expression calculating. Finally, with a huff, she reveals her hidden agenda. "And fine…I figured he'd make you go running and screaming back into Edward's arms. It's insanely cute that you guys are talking," she gushes.

_I knew it_.

I sigh despondently, but don't say anything. Making my way to one of the stalls, I contemplate what we just discussed and actually consider what she said – the part about Peter making Edward look good. But it didn't work. I know Peter isn't like most guys – I've met plenty enough in my life to figure out that some people are just socially retarded. And Edward doesn't need someone like Peter to make him stand out. He doesn't need Peter to highlight what makes him a good guy – a guy worth giving it all up for.

Edward stands out on his own.

-x-x-

Peter asks me if I want to go to his place – or Irina's place, I should say – and hang out, but I decline. Even Brady tries to get me to come along, but I know _his_ motives are selfish. I can just imagine him and Irina running off to their bedroom like a little Bonnie and Clyde, leaving me to die a slow, painful death with Peter. Irina looks at me somewhat sympathetically, and I pray she's finally feeling guilty over this horrendous affair she's put me through.

It would serve her right.

I feel exhausted by time I make it back to my apartment. It's barely eight-thirty and the sun has already set, leaving the town with a dim, pink glow.

I check my phone and see I have a missed text from Edward.

_I'm bored. What are you doing?_

My mood brightens considerably, and it amazes me to know how easily Edward has become the ray of light in my otherwise dark and dreary day. I check the time of the message and see that it was sent almost thirty minutes ago.

I feel a little guilty texting him after a date – as awful as said date was – but I'd feel even worse if I ignored him again, even if only for a night. I type out a response while I wait on the elevator.

_I went out. Just getting home_.

I get another message from him quickly. _Went out where? _

_A steakhouse._

_Sounds delish. Date?_

I stare at the screen for a few moments. How does he know this? And what should I say? Be honest? Lie? But what if Alice told him and he knows I'm lying?

A few more seconds pass. I'm on the floor of my apartment when I finally respond.

_Yes. But you should be happy to know it was possibly the worst two hours of my life._

_Oh? So it didn't fulfill all your single-woman dreams?_

_No, jackass._

_Not surprising. I'd hate to be the guy who comes after me. I set the standards pretty high._

He has no idea.

_Yeah. The dinner table was a lot roomier, though. Without the big head and all._

_Not many girls would complain about a big head..._

Oh hell-_o_ sexual innuendo. Did he seriously just say that? And am I seriously blushing?

I breathe deeply. Yep, definitely a little flustered now. The lack of literal screwing must really be getting to me.

I plop down on the couch as we continue texting.

_Do you kiss your mother with that pervy mouth?_

_No, just you._

More blushing. Goddamn it.

He sends me another text before I can respond. _Do you kiss small-headed boys with YOUR mouth?_

I think about this. The possible responses are endless, but if there's one thing I've learned tonight, it's that I don't want to be kissing other boys. But I feel like I shouldn't tease Edward. Not until I'm truly ready.

But my fingers type. They press send before I can stop them.

_No, just you_.

I think about those words. I've told him again and again that I'm not ready for a relationship. He said he understands and that he wouldn't rush me – so does that mean I'm not allowed to flirt if he flirts first? Flirting is harmless, right?

His response comes almost a full minute later.

_Can I come over?_

I contemplate this question.

_You think that's a good idea?_ I ask, seeking his honest opinion. He knows how I feel; he knows I went out tonight. And we're still friends, if nothing else. I'm allowed to have friends over.

And I want more than anything to have him over.

His response surprises me. _I'll be there in fifteen_.

-x-x-

I change before Edward arrives, only because I'm worried Peter's cologne has seeped onto my clothes and stained them. It seems like I can still smell the cologne, but I'm not sure if it's on my clothes or singed onto my nose hairs.

Edward knocks on the door, and I throw it open in a rush. He's dressed casually and looks well rested. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise at my exuberance, a crooked smile gracing his handsome face.

"Oh my God, a normal man," I say excitedly, yanking him into the apartment by his arm. He chuckles as he stumbles inside and I shut the door behind him.

"Damn. That bad?" he asks.

"You have no idea." I look up at him, standing only about a foot away, and my smile threatens to split my face in half. It's a little alarming how happy I am to see him.

"I guess I won't give you a hard time about it. Sounds like you were tortured enough."

"Yeah, well. My pride thanks you."

Edward's eyes drop to my lips, which in turn causes me to look at _his_ lips. All I want to do is kiss him again, which is probably terrible seeing as how I'm fresh off a date. Using all of my willpower, I turn away from him and walk towards the couch. He hesitates by the door a second before following and taking a seat beside me.

"I was just watching TV," I say, picking up the remote. "What were you doing tonight?"

He shrugs. "Honestly?" he asks me, and I quirk an eyebrow at him.

"Yes, honestly."

"I was thinking about you."

I almost expect a cheesy chorus of "Awww," to blare out of my TV speakers or something. Yet the words still have an effect on me. I look at him in surprise, and though his expression is still light, I can hear the sincerity in his words. It does things to my heart that a million Peters – even socially appropriate Peters - would never be able to do.

I look down at my hands, suddenly uneasy. "I didn't want to go out tonight," I admit to him. "Alice's friend begged me to keep her stepbrother company. It was a double-date, anyway." I look at him, and his eyes are glued to mine. I swallow, adding, "And I thought about you almost the whole time."

Edward lets these words sink in a moment, thoughtful. He rubs his face with his hand and I sigh.

"Why do you keep bothering with me?" I ask lightly. "I mean, I hear the way girls talk about you. You could have anyone you want. You're a pretty big catch." I nudge his leg with my own, trying to keep our conversation easy. But internally, I'm terrified to hear the answer.

Edward looks at me like I've gone insane. "Because I like you, Bella," he says seriously. He shifts a little, turning his body towards mine. "And because I know you like me too. If I didn't think you did, I wouldn't bother."

I smile, embarrassed, and continue nudging his leg with my knee. "Always so sure of yourself," I remark.

"Am I wrong?" he asks seriously. I glance at him.

"You know the answer to that, Edward."

A few seconds pass in silence, and then Edward puts his hand on my arm, causing me to look up. "Come here," he urges, and I once again find myself being drawn to him. He wraps his arm around me, tucking me into his side, and I sigh against him and relax.

"That's better," he says in contentment, and we both settle into a comfortable silence. Edward's thumb rubs light circles on the skin of my arm.

I almost feel like I could fall asleep, but another question grabs my attention. "Do you miss your ex?" he asks. I crane my neck so that I can look at him, confused.

"No, I don't. Why?"

"I was just wondering," he says sheepishly, but doesn't offer more of an explanation.

"It wasn't like that, Edward," I say, relaxing against him again. "We're done. It was a long time coming. I'm not still pining over him or anything."

Edward nods, squeezing me just a little tighter. "Okay," he says. He changes the subject. "Did you want to watch a movie or anything? I guess I kind of passed out on you last time you suggested it."

I smile at the memory and move away from him, getting up to retrieve my movies. I don't have many since most the ones we owned actually belonged to Alec. I carry what I have to the couch.

"I don't have much," I say, shuffling through them. "We could go rent something if you want."

Edward leans forward to look at the movies. "They're all chick flicks," he observes, amused. "_Love Actually…The Holiday…Atonement…_" He rifles through them, moving each one aside.

"They were the only ones that were actually mine when I moved," I say defensively. "Alec was a big movie watcher. He bought all the other ones."

"Hmm…I see," he says thoughtfully, and I pull all my movies back from him with a huff.

"We're not watching these," I say with finality. I'm not sure what I was thinking – Edward's still a man, after all.

"No, no," he says quickly. "Just give me a minute. I can't decide if I want to imagine myself making out with Jude Law or that weird British guy."

"You actually have to think about it?" I ask in mock surprise. "Jude Law. No question." I wave _The Holiday _at him. "What do you say?" I ask, attempting to entice him with the cover, but he just makes a face before snatching it out of my hand and setting it on the table.

"I actually have another idea," he says. "Would you be up to taking a drive?"

"A drive where?" I ask.

"You'll see," he says, standing. He holds out his hand to help me up. "Just wear warm clothes and comfortable shoes."

-x-x-

Piling into Edward's car, he starts the engine and turns on the heat, making sure the vents are pointing towards me. I'm insanely curious as to what he has planned. I'm wearing jeans, a sweatshirt, and sneakers, and he also suggested I bring a small blanket if I have one.

We make small talk along the way. It seems like such a one-eighty from where my night began. The date was such a disaster, completely unwanted, and then Edward comes along and nothing seems quite as bad. The night hasn't been a total loss at all.

The drive is only about ten minutes, and then we pull into a local park. I've never been here, but it's not one of the most popular parks in town. It's a natural area, with lots of trees and a few benches. Edward cuts the engine and steps out of the car, immediately opening his trunk and pulling out a thick blanket of his own. He also takes out a long, black flashlight.

"You keep a blanket in your trunk?" I ask, cocking an eyebrow. I join him, retrieving my smaller blanket from the backseat.

"I came here the other day and never took it out. There's nowhere to sit, so if I'm gonna be here a while I usually bring a blanket to sit on."

He tucks the blanket under one arm, shuts the trunk, and holds his free hand out to me. "You ready?"

"Sure," I say, taking his hand in my own. It feels good there, the grip tight and firm and secure. We walk a short distance across the park, me simply following his lead, until we reach the edge of a lightly wooded forest.

"We're going to go through here," Edward says, glancing at me. I look at him curiously.

"Through the woods?"

"It's not a long walk. Promise."

"Hmm...this seems very _Jason-_ish," I say, but allow him to step in front of me so that he can lead the way. "And I'm gonna hold you to the 'not a long walk' thing. I can barely walk on flat ground when it's daylight out, much less hike through a dark forest in the middle of the night." He releases my hand so that he can move twigs and leaves out of the way, clearing the path for me. The air is chilly, humid and muggy, but no worse than a usual Seattle night. The moon is mostly hidden by the clouds, and Edward uses his flashlight to illuminate the ground in front of us.

I have no idea what I'm doing. It's obvious how much I trust Edward, following him into the dark forest without question. There's no one else here this late at night. Hopefully he doesn't have a secret Michael Myers side to him I'm not aware of. And hopefully their are no real Michael Myers hiding in the forest...

The walk isn't terribly far or difficult. The ground is mostly level with only a few fallen branches and roots to slow us down, but Edward shines the light on them and points them out along the way. He holds back the low-hanging branches and graciously prevents them from smacking me in the face. Eventually, I can see a tinkling of lights through the trees, and the forest thins until we're stepping through to a large clearing.

I inhale sharply as we're greeted with the Seattle skyline, each building lit up magnificently in comparison to the darkness where we stand. The clearing is about fifty feet around, with trees bordering on every side, and it dips down in front of us to a deep, vast hill. It's at this dip that the trees break away enough to offer the stunning view.

Edward turns off his flashlight and stashes it in his back pocket. "Do you like it?" he asks, looking over at me. I nod in awe.

"It's incredible!" I gush. "I mean, I've been to Kerry Park, and that place has a really great view…but there's always _so _many people around." I pause once more to take it all in. "This is amazing. How did you find out about it?"

"My dad found it a long time ago," he explains. "He took my mom here. She told me about it years ago and I decided to come check it out. I don't think too many people realize it's back here. There's never anyone here when I come."

He begins spreading the blanket on the wet ground, and I hasten to help him.

"I'm surprised whoever owns the park hasn't cut down the trees," I comment. "If they knew what was back here it would bring in a lot more people." And then the place would lose its charm, just like Kerry Park. But I don't say this.

"Well…guess we better enjoy it while it lasts." Edward takes a seat on the blanket and holds his hand out to me, urging me to join him.

His hand engulfs mine, and I'm gently pulled onto the blanket beside him. I nestle into his side, grateful for the warmth of his body.

"Comfortable?" he asks me.

"Yes."

We sit in silence for a few minutes, and that's about how long it takes for my ass to go numb on the hard, cold ground. I pull away from Edward so that I can lie down, hoping that he'll join me.

He does.

He puts one arm behind his head like a pillow, using the other to wrap around my shoulders and pull me close again. I snuggle against him, my gaze still on the gorgeous skyline below us.

"Do you come here a lot?" I ask him.

"Sometimes. It's a nice place to clear my head."

I nod, and after a few seconds say, "I'm sure you already know this, but you're making every other man on the planet look pretty shitty right now."

Edward chuckles. "Am I now?"

"Like the cocky doctor didn't already know," I say sarcastically.

"You still think I'm cocky?" He raises an eyebrow at me.

"Of course."

"I suppose that's fair," he concedes. "I mean, you had a horrible date with whats-his-face, and then on the same night I whisk you away to one of the best little known spots in Seattle. And now you're snuggled against _me_, and you'll probably be kissing me soon. Even though you said no kissing for a while. So I guess any man would be a _little _cocky."

I gasp and pretend to be offended, though I don't bother pulling away from him. He's just too comfortable. Too right.

"You're head's gonna explode one day," I lament. "It just keeps getting bigger and bigger. And for the record, I never planned on kissing you tonight."

He looks at me, smiling. "Tonight?"

"I don't date one boy and kiss another on the same night," I explain patiently.

"Then stop dating other boys and we won't have that problem," he counters, his tone light. Teasing. But the words are full of implications, and I completely understand what he's asking.

I lie against him, silent for a moment. Then I finally find my voice.

"Fine."

Edward turns his head towards mine, curious. "Fine?"

"I won't date other boys. It's not like there's anyone I'm interested in. But I'm not dating _you_ yet either."

Edward grins, his green eyes reflecting the Seattle lights. "Are you saying you're not interested in me, Bella?"

"Nooo, not at all," I say mockingly. "I do this with every guy I hate."

"Hmm. Well that could be where you've been going wrong."

"You're right. I should probably leave." I move to push away from him, but his grip around me tightens as he smothers me against his chest.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asks playfully, trapping me to his side, and I laugh.

"Nowhere, apparently."

"That's right."

We relax after a few moments, and I lie casually against him, toying with the zipper of his jacket.

"Will you tell me about your dad?" I finally ask.

Edward's brows draw together. "What do you want to know?"

"I don't know," I answer, shrugging. "I just hear everyone talk about him. Is he like you?"

He thinks for a moment. "Not really. He's a good surgeon," he says. "Really dedicated to his work. Work has always been one of his top priorities."

"Is he nice?" I wonder.

He shrugs. "I guess it depends on who you ask."

"I'm asking you."

He turns to look at me again. "Yes, I think he's nice," he says carefully. "But he's very…particular."

I nod in understanding. Well I guess I don't _exactly _understand, but I've met doctors who seem to fit that description. They're perfectly nice until something doesn't go their way. I figure that must be how his father is.

I clear my throat and say, "After my parents divorced, I only saw my dad once or twice a year. And one time, when I was sixteen, I made a huge fuss about going to visit him. I think I really hurt his feelings and…I don't know…I always felt bad about it." I turn to find Edward looking at me, his attention focused. "I don't really feel like I know him that well anymore."

Edward nods slightly. "Well you live closer now, at least," he says. "You have the chance to get to know him."

"Yeah, that's true."

"I actually lived in the same house as my father for eighteen years and we were still never close," he supplies.

"Is he why you became a doctor?" I ask.

"No. My mother is why I became a doctor."

I nod, trying to scoot even closer. There's not a breath of space between us now. After a minute, Edward removes the arm from behind his head and gently pushes the hair from my face, his touch like a soft caress.

"This is why I keep bothering," he eventually murmurs, pressing his lips against my forehead. I let my eyes flutter closed for a moment before reaching up and cupping his face, drawing his lips to mine.

The contact is slow at first. Careful. Tender. But it progresses quickly; his tongue eagerly stroking against mine the instant my lips part, our touches quickly becoming more insistent. I move my hand to his hair, where I twist my fingers through his silky locks and lightly tug.

Edward moans and pushes me back with his body. I don't resist him. Instead, I bring him with me, his weight firm but careful as he balances over me on the ground. Our kisses become hungry as his hand travels down my side, his fingers caressing, to finally rest on my hip.

Everything fades away in this moment. I don't worry about Alec or the burden of a failed relationship. I don't think about the time that was wasted. Instead, I focus on the way Edward makes me feel, his body warm and hard as it presses into mine, his lips soft and careful as they desperately seek my own.

Edward's mouth finds my jaw. My head tips back and he kisses my neck, his hand craftily slipping beneath the fabric of my sweatshirt. I don't stop him. I _can't _stop him.

My shirt is slowly pushed up to my neck, leaving my chest exposed. My plain, black bra is on full display. I obviously didn't learn from the first topless blunder I experienced with Edward, and since I never dreamed of going this far with him so soon, it didn't occur to me to wear something sexier. It seems my mind is always seeking comfort.

Just like now. Here, with Edward – with his lips on my skin – I feel comfortable. His mouth trails across my chest, grazing and kissing the swell of my breasts. I arch slightly, pushing my body against him as I tangle my fingers through his hair and urge him closer.

Edward kisses down my chest, to my stomach, eliciting feelings and desires I haven't experienced in years. Not even with Alec. I ache for this man in a way I never have for anyone else. Even here, near this old park where the air is cold, the ground is wet, and someone could hear us. None of those things quell my growing desire.

His lips crash against mine again, his warm body covering my own.

"I fucking love kissing you," he moans, pulling back slightly to catch his breath. But his mouth is never far from mine, and we're kissing again almost instantly.

This continues a few more minutes. Edward's erection digs into me almost painfully, yet I still grab his hips and force him closer. He never pushes me too far; my bra remains in place, his hands are always where I can see them. Eventually, our kisses slow to sensual caresses. Edward nuzzles my neck, then my nose, and then we're sharing small, crooked smiles before he kisses me again, the softness of his touches barely palpable, yet definitive in their meaning.

He rolls beside me and pulls me close to him on the ground, tucking the spare blanket around my shoulders. The tranquility of the moment is a stark contrast to the chaos within my mind. My thoughts race in every direction, my heart aching at every possibility.

I curl into Edward, enjoying his warmth. Everything is suddenly so unclear – every thought and plan I had is being overwhelmed by the man beside me, and I suddenly can't see the way up in this vast pool of uncertainty.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to the usual passionmama and ms-ambrosia for their hard work with this chapter. And I gotta say I'm really surprised passionmama is still putting up with me after this one...hehe.

Edward and Bella's view of the skyline can be found here: http:(slash)(slash)(dot)com/albums/af10/mybluesky/seattle(dot)jpg - although, this is actually the view from the aforementioned Kerry Park, just in case anyone is really interested.

I'm not sure when the next update will be. It looks like RL is going to be kind of hectic until at least Oct. 20th or so, but I'll aim for 2 weeks again. I'll tweet about it when I know more.

I'm mybluesky1 on twitter for teasers and updates.

Thanks for the reviews last chapter! Sorry I didn't reply to more, but reviewers are gonna get a little sumpin' sumpin' special this go round to make up for it. And sorry if you all still wanna kill Bella, but I promise it won't be 50 chapters before she gets her shit together. I actually think more soonish rather than laterish ;)

xoxo


	11. Chapter Ten

**A/N: This chap is dedicated to passionmama. At least the first part is. She knows why. xoxo**

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

-x-x-x-x-

**Chapter 10 - I Am His**

I'm making rounds on my patients when I discover ailing Mrs. Beres has gotten out of bed without assistance. She just "couldn't hold it" and "couldn't find her call light." It's in the bed with her, but she has poor vision and ultimately decided to take matters into her own hands.

Now she's barely standing, her IV line stretched across the room, her adult briefs down to her ankles as she wades in a puddle of her own urine. I get her back into bed, clean her up, slap on a new diaper, and hand her the call button. She thanks me and apologizes and I head down the hallway in search of towels and cleaning supplies. I could call housekeeping, but sometimes it's easier to just do things myself.

I don't hear the noises until it's too late.

Stopping at the janitor's closet, I snatch the door open without thinking, only to be accosted by the sight of a pale, bare ass and a pair of widely spread legs. I stand frozen in horror for five seconds – long enough for Emmett to turn around and look at me and long enough to see Dr. Hale's face peek over his shoulder, both of their expressions alarmed. Then I slam the door shut and run like hell down the hallway, anxiously digging my phone out of my pocket so I can tell Edward.

Because I was _so_ right about that shit.

_Red alert! – I just caught Nurse M and Dr. H doing a vertical tango by the ammonia bottles,_ I text him. I don't know why I don't use their real names and simply say 'sex' - perhaps I'm trying to preserve their diginity in case the secret hospital security system is able to intercept our text messages. Either way, you can never be too careful.

His returning text takes a little while, and I'm impatient and overly excited about my discovery. I clean up the pee while I wait and page housekeeping to come mop.

I hide out in the bathroom when I feel my phone vibrate.

_As much as I want to comment on your choice of words right now… are you fucking serious?_

_Does a bear shit in the woods?_

_Bella…_

_YES I'M SERIOUS._

_What happened?_

_Nothing. I ran away._

_You ran?_

_Like my ass was on fire. It was horrifying._

_Could have at least snapped a picture..._

_That's sick. I don't want a picture of Emmett's hairy ass on my phone._

_It would have made good blackmail._

Damn. He's right. But there was no time. Emmett surely would have clocked me if he saw me scrambling with the buttons on my phone. I know for certain he wouldn't have stood there and posed.

_Just knowing about this could be good blackmail_, I reply.

_True. I'm sorry you had to see that._

_You and me both._

-x-x-

Not surprisingly, Emmett walks into the nurses station as if nothing happened. He's completely natural except for the fact that he won't make eye contact with me. Nor does he really talk to me at all.

I'm itching to bring it up, but I feel it's a matter best discussed in private, even though the actual _act_ ended up being anything _but_ private. I feel like the image of his ass has been scorched onto my eyelids. Every time I close my eyes, it's all I see.

It's been almost four days since I've seen Edward. Ever since our night in the park. We stayed there for almost an hour, just talking and kissing and enjoying the gorgeous view. With each sweet touch, with each detail shared, I felt like I was falling just a little bit harder.

And that scared me.

I wasn't purposefully keeping my distance from him. I spent most of Sunday finishing my unpacking, and then on Monday I worked on getting my Washington license and car tag. Monday night, I helped Alice hang some pictures she had bought. We drank wine and ate nachos with cheese dip, and then Irina stopped by and we shot the breeze over her torrid little setup with Peter. Alice admitted that she had caught on to what Irina was planning and that's why she stopped arguing against it, which didn't surprise me. After I was good and tipsy, they even got me to admit that I had kissed Edward the same night of the awful date. They then shared stories of horrible dates they'd been on, and I eventually confessed that it's been ages since I've gotten any real action.

That's when the night _really_ took off.

Irina insisted I follow her to her car, only to pop her trunk and reveal a car stuffed to the brink with dildos. Well, not dildos, per se; she had vibrators, anal beads, butt plugs, scented lotions, and edible cream. It was like she was driving around with the world's smallest sex shop in the back of her car, and I was flabbergasted.

"It's not as good as sex," Irina said as she handed me one of her toys, "but it's a damn good alternative."

Alice was _oohhing_ and _aahhing_ as she looked at everything. As tipsy as I was, I still found the decency to blush over holding a giant purple dildo in the middle of the parking lot at Alice's apartment.

"What on earth are you doing with all this?" I asked her, handing back the toy.

"I sell them," she said simply.

"You sell dildos?"

"Well not _just_ dildos," she corrected me. "But yes. I do Passion Parties." At my doubtful look she added, "It's fun! And I get a discount on everything I buy. So I can sell you something at a cheaper price."

"Can you sell _me_ something at a cheaper price?" Alice asked hopefully.

"Of course, chica. What do you want?"

"Maybe we should take this inside," I said warily.

"There's no one around, Bella," Alice argued. "Hell, it's _my_ apartment and I'm not even embarrassed. Now stop being a prude and pick out a dildo."

I gave her the stink-eye.

"I actually don't have any dildos with me," Irina corrected her. "These are vibrators. See?" She turned on one of the slong-shaped contraptions and it began buzzing in her hand. Alice looked on with rapt fascination. "This one even lights up," she said as she began sex toy diving for the next vibrator. She turned it on and it began flashing like a rainbow-colored patrol car.

"Oooh, I like that," Alice said, taking it from her.

"Seriously, guys. We should take this inside," I tried again, looking around nervously.

"Here, taste this," Irina said, ignoring my protests as she held a little stick up to my face. I immediately leaned back and away as she tried to shove the thing in my mouth. She actually managed to touch my lips with the tip before I put my foot down.

"Hey, hey, hey! I'm not sticking any of your mysterious sex-toy funk in my mouth unless we go inside," I said loudly, causing Alice to sigh and replace her toy inside the trunk. I looked at Irina. "And just so you know, you're acting an awful lot like Peter right now."

Irina looked downright offended. She slammed her sex-toy chest closed and glared at me.

"You take that back," she said threateningly.

"No."

"Take it back or I'm giving Peter your phone number."

"Are you serious? I'm just…_fine_! Ugh! I take it back," I huffed.

But I got my way. She pulled her chest from the trunk and we made our way back inside, where she spread out each toy on Alice's kitchen table and explained their purpose. I eventually did taste the little goop sample, only to be told it was an edible lotion that numbs your throat so that you won't have a gag reflex. When I asked what in the hell I'd need it for – or more importantly, _who_ I'd need it for - she and Alice just exchanged knowing glances.

I won't lie and say Edward didn't come to mind. Thinking about numbing my throat so I could deep-throat someone naturally led me to wonder how big his package is, and whether the cream would be necessary. Because honestly…he's good-looking, has a great personality, and he's a doctor. A fine catch to those who don't normally dislike doctors, so he must have _something_ wrong with him. Right?

Although he certainly didn't feel tiny pressed against my thigh… but now is not the time to let my mind wander down _that_ road.

"Here," Irina said, handing me a large vibrator. "This one's the Rabbit. A classic. You'll _love_ it, Bella, I promise. Oh, _wait_!" She pulls out a slightly wider, longer vibrator. "Scratch that. The Magic Monarch is the way to go. Go big or go home," she said, turning it on. Little beads on the head of the "penis" started spinning and the entire tip began wiggling in circles like a worm or something. It was kind of repulsive looking, yet strangely, I was still a little turned on.

That must be the lack of literal screwing talking. It took surprisingly little persuasion, and before I knew it, I was the proud owner of my very first cock-shaped vibrator.

I haven't used it yet, but Irina claimed it's the answer to every single woman's dream. It's now tucked safely inside my panty drawer, peeking out at me every time I go to get a clean pair of undies.

Edward returned to work on Tuesday, and to my surprise, he had to work the night shift. He explained this to me later when we spoke briefly spoke on the phone.

"Nobody _wants_ to work the night shift," he had said. "So we have to take turns. There has to be a hospitalist at the hospital at all times."

"Who did it last time?" I asked.

"Dr. Martin. He's working second shift now."

"So if there's always a doctor there then are you on call on your days off?"

I recalled that he was never paged during our dates or any of the time we spent together. I didn't think much of it then, but it seems kind of odd considering his profession.

"Nope," he said happily. "I'm only on call when I'm actually at the hospital. Being a hospitalist has its downsides, but let me tell you… I definitely don't regret not being paged in the middle of the night."

But it _did _mean he has to work night shifts, which means I haven't seen him for several days. But to make up for it, we now text each other often. It started out casual, with a text here and there, until we were eventually text-flirting all throughout the day. He texts me goodnight every evening – even if I'm already asleep – and my stomach flutters every time.

At the end of the shift, Emmett sneaks away before I have a chance to talk to him. Not surprising. He usually asks me if I need help with anything, but obviously the little scandal I witnessed earlier changes things. I try calling him, but he doesn't answer. Once again, not surprising.

I look at my watch on the way out. Seven-thirty. Edward won't be in for two and a half hours, and his shift will be over right before I come in.

Four days and I already miss him.

This isn't good.

-x-x-

The week drags. I finally get to see Dr. Ellis up-close when she stops by to round on one of her patients. She's tall, with long, wavy red hair and flawless skin. She even wears heels.

She's kind of perfect – tall, beautiful and feminine – and I hate her for it.

It's strange that I feel this way. I don't _want _to hate her, but it's a completely unintentional feeling. I can't just _not_ hate her. But then I catch her smiling at Aro and, yep, she's nice and I hate her.

I have no idea if she knows I've been talking to Edward. She doesn't acknowledge me, but I don't acknowledge her either. Then again, it's always possible that she does know and just doesn't care.

She's gone before I can figure anything out.

On Tuesday morning – more than a week after my night with Edward – I'm floated to another floor. It's standard practice for the hospital to pull nurses when a floor is short-staffed. No one ever wants to do it, but no one gets the luxury of choosing when to go. Today, it's my turn.

Aside from an occasional text, I haven't spoken to Edward in several days. But I find out he's working today when I hear one of the other nurses announcing that she paged him. Just hearing his name gets me worked up, and knowing that he's here suddenly makes my job much more enjoyable.

I bid my time, staying quiet and keeping busy. And then I see him. As I'm leaving my patient's room, I spy him sitting at the nurses station, a chart open in front of him as he speaks with another doctor. I'm not close enough to hear what he's saying, yet I realize it doesn't matter so long as said doctor doesn't have long legs, shiny hair, and a fuckable rack.

I slow my walk down the hall, not sure I want to be seen just yet. It's been over a week since I've seen him and for a moment, I just want to observe. He's wearing a blue scrub top covered by a white lab coat, and it dawns on me just how sexy it is that he always chooses the comfort of scrubs over the pretentiousness of a suit or dress clothes. He also has on his glasses again, but they don't make him look nerdy.

Well, maybe just a little. But they're cute. Endearing. And strangely, sexy as hell.

Maybe something is wrong with me. I never thought I'd be the type of girl to be so turned on by a guy in glasses. I had broken down and used my Monarch – leading to a fun, exciting, albeit solo night – but just looking at Edward makes me feel virginal again, and I shift uncomfortably where I stand as I wonder, once again, how big his package is.

God, I'm _so_ inappropriate. This is certainly not the time or place to be imagining my coworker's package.

Eventually, he stops talking to the other doctor and begins flipping through the chart. Deciding to have a little fun, I walk up to the station until I'm standing directly in front of him, with just the counter between us. He doesn't see me for at least a solid thirty seconds, and I just stand there, waiting patiently and possibly looking like a creeper as I stare down at him.

When I see another nurse cock an eyebrow at me, I decide to clear my throat and speed things along.

"Ahem."

Edward looks up and does a double take. Then his face breaks into one of the most breathtaking smiles I've ever seen, and my insides turn to goo on command.

I'm freakin useless.

"Hey," he says. "What are you doing here?"

"Working," I reply. "Apparently I've been exiled from the fourth floor for the day."

"Banished to the second floor?"

"Something like that." He smiles, and I look at his glasses while wondering if I should say anything. He went all self-conscious on me last time and took them off, which is ridiculous.

But it seems I can't help myself. "Your glasses are really cute."

He grimaces before reaching up and removing them, just as I imagined he would. "Yeah, I hate wearing them."

"Why?"

"I look ridiculous in glasses, for starters."

I frown at him. "I just said you look _cute_, not ridiculous."

"What, cute in a _Christmas Story_ kid kind of way?" he asks skeptically.

I roll my eyes dramatically and move around the counter so that I can sit beside him. "They're just glasses, Edward. All the cool kids are wearing them now. Well, the cool, smart kids."

He snorts.

"Can you see without them?" I ask.

"I can get by," he answers. "I just can't read anything in the charts. And I'm not really supposed to drive without them," he says sheepishly.

"Don't you wear contacts?" I ask with a smile.

"Usually."

"And…?"

"And…I need to order some more," he admits. "Working nights has turned me into a slacker."

"You mean more so than usual?"

Hiding a smile, he lifts the front of the chart he'd been perusing to reveal the name. "Any chance you're taking care of Mr. Lowery?" he asks as he puts his glasses back on.

"Today is your lucky day," I say smugly. "Because right now, Mr. Lowery has the best nurse in the _whole_ world."

"Is that so?" he says, amused. He lets the front of the chart fall back to the table and stands. "Care to round with me, best nurse in the world?"

"The best nurse in the world would _love_ to round with you."

I stand and follow him down the hallway, making a quick turn into Mr. Lowery's room. I'm a little surprised when Edward greets the patient enthusiastically by his first name, Jared, and then when the patient's demeanor lights up as he spouts off an excited greeting of his own.

Mr. Lowery is a good-natured patient, always making jokes, and is extremely kind to the staff and never complains. He's a Vietnam War veteran who was exposed to Agent Orange and now has kidney failure as a result, and has been on hemodialysis for the past four months. While they usually place dialysis patients on the floor where I normally work – due to the fact that they do hemodialysis right down the hall – Mr. Lowery was admitted with chest pain and was subsequently placed on the cardiovascular unit.

"There's my man!" Mr. Lowery booms. "Decided to come join the rest of the world, I see? Getting a bit of sunshine?"

"What little sunshine there is in Seattle," Edward remarks. "How have you been feeling?"

"Just marvelous! Hard not to when you have the prettiest nurse in the hospital taking care of you," Mr. Lowery says, winking at me, and Edward smiles.

"What have I told you about playing favorites?"

"Pfft." Mr. Lowery waves his hand dismissively.

"I'm gonna have you lean forward just a little so I can listen to you," Edward says as he pulls his stethoscope from around his neck. He places it on Mr. Lowery's back and instructs him to take deep breaths, and I stand back silently, just observing.

When Edward finishes, he loops his stethoscope across his neck again. "No chest pain?"

"Nope. All better," Mr. Lowery says with a smile. "You think I can go home today?"

"Have you found a primary doctor yet?"

"Have you opened up your own practice?"

"Nope."

"Then I think we both know the answer to that one, Edward."

"I'm not planning on opening a practice anytime soon, Jared," Edward says sternly. "And you need to see a regular doctor."

"I do see a regular doctor."

"Coming to the hospital doesn't count. That's what we're trying to _prevent_."

"Trying to get rid of me?" Mr. Lowery leans over, searching for me. "Bella likes having me around. Don't you, Bella?"

"Of course, Mr. Lowery," I say with a smile. "But we also like you _healthy_."

"I am healthy! I haven't had a slice of bacon in _months_. You know what that's like?"

"I'm sure it's terrible," I say with a chuckle, then lower my eyes sheepishly when I realize Edward is looking at me. A moment later he turns back to Mr. Lowery.

"I'll have to look at the rest of your tests, but I think it'll probably be tomorrow before you get to go," he says. "Try not to scare Bella off with your flirting."

"Ah, she's a good sport," Mr. Lowery protests, and Edward smiles before turning to leave. I'm about to follow him when Mr. Lowery calls out to me. "Bella, you think you can unhook me so I can go to the bathroom real quick? I think today is gonna be my lucky day!"

Edward glances at me one last time before leaving the room, and I walk up to Mr. Lowery's IV pump and unplug it from the wall. "You know you have to push this to the bathroom," I say, lightly scolding him. "I'm still not gonna unhook you from your IV."

"Ah, well, it was worth a try," Mr. Lowery says as he slowly moves to get out of bed. Once he's sitting on the edge, he stays there for a second.

"So what's going on with you and Edward?" he finally asks, surprising me.

"What do you mean?"

"I saw the way you looked at each other."

I shake my head, holding out a hand to help him up. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"When you started laughing I thought I'd have to do naked cartwheels to get him to pay attention to me again," he says, slowly standing up. "Not that he'd willingly look at that, of course. But there's nothing like a good train wreck to grab someone's attention." He grabs the IV pole and begins pushing it along.

"Are you jealous, Mr. Lowery?" I tease.

He slowly totters towards the bathroom, the old wheels on the IV pole moving noisily across the floor.

"Absolutely," he answers.

-x-x-

Wednesday morning, and I'm back on my regular floor. Emmett is working and I take another stab at trying to get some information out of him, but he won't budge. Now he just sort of pretends like he doesn't know what I'm talking about - like I hallucinated the whole thing. Like if he just ignores it long enough, it'll all go away.

Denial, denial, denial.

Fucking with Emmett hasn't really lost its charm yet, but I decide to let it go for now. It really works best in small doses. I'm standing at the counter of the nurses station searching through a chart for an order when someone comes up beside me.

I turn to find a tall man with short, choppy brown hair and a set of gray eyes. He's well-built, but not overly so, and is donned in red scrubs with a taped-up, decorated walker propped against the side of the counter. He smiles down at me.

"Hey. Are you Bella?" he asks.

He's good-looking. I'm not gonna lie. But he must not be my type, because I don't feel the same pull that I do when I look at Edward.

Some of my hair has fallen loose from my tie and I tuck it behind my ear. "Yeah," I reply.

"I'm Garrett from PT. I was going to walk Mrs. Green," he says. "Is she alright to get out of bed?"

"Oh…um, yeah. She's fine." My reply sounds awkward. He grins at me.

"You must be new," he states.

"Well I've been here over a month," I point out. "But yeah, I'm still pretty new."

"I see. Well I work at the rehab. I just fill in here part-time sometimes."

"Oh, okay," I respond, returning his smile with a small one of my own. I start to turn back to the chart I was looking at, but his voice grabs my attention again.

"Do you like it here so far?"

I peek up at him. "Yeah, it's nice."

"Honestly?" He raises an eyebrow at me, and I laugh.

"Yes, honestly. Why wouldn't I like it?"

"No reason," he says with a grin. "Where did you work at before?"

Our conversation continues this way, him asking me simple questions and me answering. He's nice. Flirtatious, even. And I don't shun him away, because he's easy to look at and sometimes some innocent flirtation is good for the soul. My soul, at least; it's harmless.

He eventually takes his walker and makes his way down the hall. I'm still smiling lightly as I return to my chart, and then I look up to discover Edward sitting at a table.

He's not looking at me. His hand is in his hair, scratching his head, and he looks tired. And he's not looking at me.

This has to be on purpose. I'm standing in plain view, so surely he saw me when he entered the nurses station. He would normally talk to me – he'd say something to me when he entered, or try to catch my eye when he thought I may be looking. This seems out of character, and I can't help but suspect that it has something to do with the cute physical therapist that was just chatting me up.

I wonder if what I did was wrong, but I can't see the harm. It was just talking. Being friendly. The guy was cute, but that doesn't make it any less appropriate, right? A man is a man. And I felt no attraction towards him either way, so his looks are kind of irrelevant. And anyway, Edward and I aren't even dating, so I'm not sure why it would matter. And maybe it doesn't. Maybe I'm just being paranoid.

I take the chart and walk across the counter, plopping down in the seat across from Edward. He looks up and smiles tightly, but that's it. No breathtaking grins today.

"Hey," I say quickly. "How are you?"

It seems like such a generic question, but I really don't know how else to start the conversation. Everything feels tense now.

"Good," he replies, rubbing beneath his eye and immediately going back to his chart.

And that's it.

I stare at him a moment, wondering if I really have anything to do with this sudden behavior change. Not everything is about me, after all. Maybe it's something else.

"Are you okay?" I press.

"Why wouldn't I be?" His tone is quipped and short, his answer a little off. I sigh in frustration. If I wanted to deal with this sort of insecurity I would have jumped his bones a long time ago. Maybe getting laid would make it worth it.

"Because you're practically ignoring me," I point out.

Edward looks up, frowning. "Why? Because I'm not lavishing you with all my attention right now? I'm talking to you, aren't I?"

"Are you mad at me?" I ask in disbelief.

"Is there a reason for me to be mad?"

"No. But you're acting kind of childish."

Edward just sighs and stands up. "I have work to do, Bella," he says dismissively, walking away. I can feel my anger bubbling as I watch him retreat down the hallway because he has _no right_ to be mad at me about anything. I've been nothing but honest with him this entire time, and I made it perfectly clear that we're not dating.

And even if we were dating, does that mean I'm not allowed to talk to another man? I may have laughed a little, but damn, can a girl not laugh now without getting the third degree?

I'm starting to get flashbacks of my relationship with Alec, and it's not a pleasant experience.

I consider following Edward so that I can confront him in the hallway, but I don't get the chance. A thin, balding doctor with a large nose walks out of the nurses station and poignantly calls, "I'll need the nurse to meet me in Mrs. Austin's room." His voice is pretentious, and he doesn't wait for anyone to respond or even acknowledge that they heard him.

Mrs. Austin is my patient. I roll my eyes and turn to Emmett, who's sitting at a computer a few feet away.

"Who is that?" I whisper to him.

"Dr. Byers," Emmett answers, cutting his eyes at me. "He's an ass, so don't cry and shit if he makes you feel stupid. I know how you women can be."

"Shut up, asshole," I hiss, moving to follow the doctor down the hall.

"I love you too, Pockets," I hear Emmett call, and I shake my head and ignore him as I disappear inside the patients room. Dr. Byers is already talking to her, completely ignoring me as I enter.

"We're going to need to get a stat CT of her head," he finishes up, not even looking at me. "I need the results called to me asap."

"Alright," I answer, and he walks briskly out of the room. I roll my eyes while I wonder why I even needed to round with him and then return to the nurses station. Edward still isn't back, and Jessica isn't anywhere to be found. She's been MIA for at least twenty minutes. I sit down in her seat and order the CT.

Dr. Byers starts barking off lab orders and scans that he needs and claims aren't on the chart. I know they're there, because I looked at them earlier, but I print them off without arguing. He then begins complaining that the I's and O's aren't recorded correctly, and a blood pressure was low in the middle of the night, so why wasn't he called? I explain to him as calmly as I can that it wasn't my shift and agree to write up an incident report on the poor nurse who gave me report this morning.

The CT tech calls me shortly afterwards and asks if Mrs. Austin will be receiving hemodialysis soon, because her creatinine is too high to receive contrast dye otherwise. But she isn't a hemodialysis patient. I reluctantly relay the message to Dr. Byers.

"Did you not just round with me?" he asks, obviously annoyed. Edward has taken his seat back at the other side of the nurses station and I kind of just want to melt away and die. I hate being demeaned, especially in front of him.

"I don't remember you saying anything about her creatinine, Sir."

"I _said_ I was aware of her creatinine and we're going to do it anyway."

"Okay, well you're welcome to explain that to the radiologist, because he's refusing to do it. Want me to get him on the phone for you?" I try to keep the edge out of my voice, but judging from the lethal look Dr. Byers gives me, I'm not so sure I'm successful.

"Why the hell would I need to explain it to him? I _ordered _the test and she's having dialysis tomorrow."

I just stand there for a moment, wondering if I've missed something. I can feel Edward's eyes on me and I hate it. Finally, I say, "But she doesn't even have a dialysis access…"

Everything happens so fast I barely see it coming. Dr. Byers turns to me angrily, whipping the chart through the air at lightning speed. It spins and grazes my leg – not enough to hurt, but enough to shock the hell of me – before crashing into the chart rack and exploding into a million loose papers.

Damn, that's going to be a bitch to put back together.

Dr. Byers is on his feet and in front of me before I can even react, his face an alarming shade of puce as he screams at me. He's tall, and too close, and I honestly feel a little bit frightened as I stumble back a step and blindly try to put some space between us. He's spewing on about how he's the doctor and I'm the nurse and how it's _his_ patient, not mine, and suddenly Edward is between us, creating a protective wall between me and the balding wrath that's all but threatening my life right now. He's telling Dr. Byers that he won't continue to talk to me this way, and Dr. Byers is still spouting off angrily, his misplaced anger now directed at Edward.

A cluster fuck has ensued. Kate, the charge nurse, has barreled into the nurses station to find out what's going on. Emmett has swooped in and wrapped an arm around me, pulling me far away from the potential violence. Garrett is standing with Mrs. Green, who's hunched over her walker in the hallway, and they both stare gapingly at the scene. Jessica has her mouth hanging open and is practically salivating at the sight, and I want to claw her stupid beady eyes out.

As soon as Edward realizes I'm out of harms way, he backs away from Dr. Byers, clearly not looking to fight. Dr. Byers looks like he's won a small victory when Edward walks off, his horrid face slowly returning to a more normal color.

Kate is trying to reason with Dr. Byers, but he isn't having any of it. He walks out of the nurses station, demanding that we call him when the chart is put back together.

Asshole.

Kate calls the nursing supervisor and complains for a few minutes, then hangs up and finds me. "We're reporting him," she says angrily, matter-of-fact, and all I can think to do is nod.

Edward has resumed his seat, still not looking at me, and he and Emmett are talking. He must still be upset with me. He would have done what he did for anybody.

Humiliation, anger, and sadness overwhelm me as I trek down the hallway, searching for a quiet place to clear my head. I disappear inside the linen room, wrapping my arms around my chest and blinking back a sudden onslaught of tears. I sigh in aggravation when I hear the door handle moving, but then Edward pushes his way inside just a second later.

His face is molded in concern. "Are you okay?" he asks, quickly making his way over. I shake my head and turn away from him, trying to hide my traitorous, watery eyes. "Did the chart hit you? Are you hurt?"

"No," I spit out. "I'm not hurt."

"God, Bella, I'm sorry. He was out of line. You're going to report him, right?"

I just shrug my shoulders. I do plan on reporting him; I just don't want to give Edward the satisfaction of knowing. I'm being a bitch. But I'm angry, even if irrationally so.

I fucking hate doctors. Even green-eyed gorgeous ones that feel insecure in their cute-ass fucking glasses.

"Bella, look at me." Edward cups my cheek, turning my face towards his. His body is close to mine, the skin of his hand warm. "Talk to me," he says.

"No." I try to turn away from him, but he tightens his grip.

"I'm not going anywhere until you talk."

I sigh, and then my verbal filter explodes. "Why the hell are you mad at me just because I talked to another guy?" I ask. "Am I not allowed to talk to anyone else now? I've been completely honest with you. I've told you how I feel, what I'm ready for. And now _you're_ not being honest with _me_."

"_I'm_ not being honest?" Edward says is disbelief. "Fuck, Bella. I've been nothing but honest here. Nothing but patient. I've told you everything I want, yet you still run around trying to resist everything you _know_ is right. I have absolutely _no _claim on you because you won't let me. There's nothing stopping you from running off with some other guy."

"I'm not running off," I argue. "And I'm not forcing you to wait on me. You don't have to be miserable just because I need a little time to get my shit together."

My own words gut me, but they're true. I don't want him to be miserable. But in retrospect, I could clearly imagine myself launching into his arms, forgoing all of my decisions, if it kept me from losing him.

The clarity of my revelations is shocking. Edward holds all the power here. Should he pull away, I will follow. Should he wait for me, I will heal. I'll be able to move on from my failed relationship with a clear mind and a fresh start. There'll never be any doubt as to whether Edward is just a rebound, just the guy I'm using to get over a past failure. He doesn't feel this way to me, but can I really know for sure? Everything is so intense. My feelings for him are intense, and I can't make heads or tails of what it all means.

Either way, I am his.

"What?" he asks sarcastically, pulling me from my thoughts. "Because a meaningless fuck is more important?"

I look up at him in surprise, my eyes questioning.

"God, Bella." His lips press against my forehead. He's so close, so warm. I move just a little closer to him. "How stupid do you think I am?"

Before I can answer, he pulls my face to his roughly, crashing his lips to mine. As soon as my lips part, his tongue is slipping past, invading every inch. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer, and his fingers twist in my hair to lock me in place.

The kiss isn't sweet or tender. It's forceful, hungry, and we devour.

And I am his.

* * *

Medical lingo/whatever-you-wanna-call-it explanation:

**PT** - physical therapy

**Creatinine** is a lab value that detects kidney failure. When it's up, you're kidneys are not working the way they should be. **Contrast dye** given during a **CT scan (cat scan)** is excreted by the kidneys. If your kidneys are not working properly and you increase their workload, they have a greater potential to completely fail or worsen. CT scans can be done without contrast dye, but you don't get as good of an image.

**Hemodialysis** is done when a person is in complete kidney failure. In short, the dialysis nurse (the nurse must be trained and qualified) hooks the patient up to a machine which pulls all the patient's blood from their body, filters it of all the waste (something the kidneys would normally do), and puts it back in their body. Without dialysis, a person with complete kidney failure would die. Quickly.

If Dr. Byers had been correct about the patient receiving hemodialysis in the morning, then it would have been okay for the patient to receive the contrast because it would have been filtered out of the patient's body via dialysis. However, as Bella pointed out, the patient did not have a dialysis access, which is something placed by either a nephrologist or surgeon in the patient so that dialysis can be performed. Some accesses can be placed at the bedside by the nephrologist while others are surgical procedures, depending on which kind of access it is.

And that concludes my lesson for today. Pop quiz next week. LOL.

-x-x-

Thank you X 1000 to passionmama, ms-ambrosia, and all my readers and reviewers. You guys are awesome. Reviewers are getting another outtake this go round, but I'd like to point out real quick that if you hate reviewing for whatever reason, all outtakes will eventually end up in the outtakes section on my profile. I just don't know when. Reviewers get them first as a thank you for sharing their thoughts.

Apparently FF still butchered my picture link last chapter despite my (dots). Let's try again: http : / / i988 . photobucket . com / albums / af10 / mybluesky / seattle . jpg - Just delete the spaces.

I haven't given up on my outline, but it's still shamefully unfinished. If I had to guess, I'd say this story will probably be 25-30 chapters total.

I'm **mybluesky1** on twitter for teasers and updates.

Still sticking to my every 2 weeks posting schedule for now. If I can get them out sooner, I will.

xo


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight.**

-x-x-x-x-

**Chapter 11 - The Wench is on the Loose**

I'm rounding the corner in the grocery store when my cart collides with another. The clang of metal resonates off shelves of boxed cereal, and I look up in surprise to see none other than Dr. Hale pushing the opposing cart, sleek and elegant in her heels as she shops for Pop-Tarts and sugar-free oatmeal. Her cell phone is wedged between her chin and shoulder.

"Shit," she exclaims, sparing me a wide-eyed glance. "Look, I got to go. I'll call you right back." She ends the call and slips the phone into her purse, and suddenly all of her attention is on me. I wouldn't have time to run away even if I wanted to. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Emmett's little protégée," she says slowly.

I bristle at her words and try to remind myself that I like Emmett, so it really shouldn't sound like such an insult. But seriously…Emmett's protégée? I did orientation with the guy for two weeks, and he was conveniently absent most of the time.

There were likely a lot of _closets_ requiring his services, after all. Ahem.

Sweet Jesus, I can barely look her in the eye now.

"I guess that depends on who you ask," I say sweetly, attempting to move around her. Thankfully, I've only seen her a handful of times since that embarrassing encounter, and we haven't been forced to speak to each other. But now is a different story; she deliberately stands in my way, all but cornering me in the cereal aisle of The Central Market.

She's staring at me. One of those calculating, thoughtful stares.

I open my mouth to speak again, but she cuts me off. "Walk with me, Bella. I want to talk to you for a minute."

_Shit_.

I swallow, but eventually turn my creaky cart around so that I'm walking beside her down the aisle. She's silent for at least a good thirty seconds, though it feels like much longer. I'm not really sure what to say. I'm too embarrassed by what happened the other day, and any conversation starter I come up with just sounds lame.

Finally, without slowing her walk, she begins. "I was wondering what Emmett has told you about me."

I'm confused by this. Confused and a little wary.

"Nothing," I answer honestly. "He hasn't really told me anything."

She stops and looks at me. "Really?"

"Yes…"

"Huh." She begins walking again. She looks thoughtful.

I figure since she brought it up, this is probably an excellent time to dig for more information. Emmett has proven to be a secretive little shit, and I still haven't gotten a word out of him. "Why do you ask?" I wonder conversationally, matching my pace with hers.

"No reason," she says. "Simply curious." She glances at me. "Sorry about the other day. That was highly inappropriate of us. I don't want you to think less of me for what…happened."

"No worries," I lie, shrugging off her apology. In reality, my brain is still a little fried from the image. "I'm sure everyone has gotten it on in the janitor's closet at least once or twice. Well, _I _haven't, but…you know. Everyone else."

She snorts. "Just give it some time. I've seen you around Edward, Bella. You can hardly keep your eyes off him whenever he's around."

Damn, am I that obvious? I don't say anything. I'll probably just incriminate myself further if I do.

"You know, I kind of like you," she goes on.

"Really?" I ask, surprised.

"Sure. Edward seems to like you. And I trust his judgment."

"Oh, okay. Well in that case, I like you too."

"Good."

"Good."

"Are you going to the baseball game next Saturday?" she asks, and it suddenly feels like we're two old friends having a normal conversation, rather than the doctor and the nurse who witnessed her spread eagle by the mop bucket.

The baseball game is an annual event that the hospital hosts just as way to get everyone together and have fun. It's doctors versus nurses, and there's supposedly a lot of food and drinks available. There have been flyers posted up all over the hospital for the past few weeks.

"Yeah, probably so," I answer. Edward, Emmett, and Alice all said they were going, so I had made up my mind pretty quickly. "Are you?"

"Oh, yeah. I'll be there. It's always a lot of fun."

"Yeah," I agree. "I heard the nurses haven't won a game in years though."

"Well, you know. It's a lot of male doctors against a lot of female nurses. Don't tell Emmett I said that, though. He gets all bent out of shape every year." She rolls her eyes.

Feeling emboldened by our friendly chat, I finally speak the question that's been plaguing my mind for weeks. "What's the deal with you and Emmett, anyway?" I ask, casting her a careful glance.

She suddenly looks hesitant. She slows her walk and leans an arm on the handle of her cart. "What do you mean?"

"Emmett won't tell me anything about you. I kind of got the impression that you guys weren't on good terms, and then, well, you know…"

I'll give Dr. Hale credit – she keeps her cool, although her unease is obvious. "You should probably ask _Emmett_ that question, Bella," she says calmly. Her posture is stiff, but collected. "I never know what's going through his goddamn mind. That's something I've been trying to figure out for _months_."

-x-x-

Edward and I barely see each other over the week. He gets a few days off, and I work every one of them. I even get overtime, which is good, considering I shelled out over fifty bucks for that damn Monarch last week. But who am I to complain? It's been good to me.

I talk to Edward on the phone Friday afternoon and confirm that he'll be at the baseball game. Then I taunt him for a while about how I used to play softball in high school and how the nurses are going to kick his ass now that they have me. This is partially a lie, because even though I _did_ play softball for two years in high school, I actually kind of sucked and struck out more often than not. But he doesn't know this, and taunting him is just too much fun.

It's kind of amazing how easy it is to talk to Edward. Towards the end of our relationship, Alec and I never had a whole lot to say to each other. We'd talk when we saw each other before going to bed, but the conversations were minimal, at best. With Edward, it's natural.

Natural and good.

Emmett, Alice and I each requested off work on Saturday so that we can go to the game. Unfortunately, I can't find my old glove, but Emmett has an extra and agrees to let me use it. After talking for a bit, we decide that I'll drive over to his house prior to the game and then we'll just ride there together. I'm wearing a pair of capris and a long-sleeved work t-shirt because it's still a little chilly outside, and I have my hair in a ponytail while donning a pair of sneakers.

I can't lie; I'm excited about seeing Edward again. Talking to him is one thing, but it's never enough. I miss him terribly.

I also can't lie and say he wasn't my main motivating factor for coming to the game.

We climb into Emmett's giant jeep and leave; each mile closer brings more anticipation, and Emmett eventually notices my excitement.

"Why the hell are you twitching?" he asks me from the driver's seat. He cocks a curious eyebrow at me.

"I'm not twitching."

"You look like you're having a fucking seizure."

I roll my eyes and flip him off. "It's cold out and your jeep has freakin' plastic bags for windows," I respond, hoping and praying he'll buy my excuse.

"Well hell, why didn't you say something?" he grumbles, and he immediately cranks the heat on full blast and points every vent within his reach at me.

Such a gentleman.

The baseball field is already crowded by the time we arrive. Some other doctors I recognize are grilling out, and there's a long table set up with chips and drinks. There are already nurses and doctors crowding their respective dugouts, but the game hasn't begun. Some people are tossing a baseball back and forth to warm up. I look around, but I don't see Edward anywhere.

Emmett says something about wishing they had beer, then he disappears to get a drink. I spot Alice over at the nurses dugout and make my way over, but then notice Mike hovering nearby at the bleachers. I haven't seen him in over a week, but he's taken to stopping me in the hallway whenever we cross paths. Allowing him to see me shirtless was quite possibly the worst mistake of my life; his eyes are always flickering to my chest, and I'd rather scorch my brain with a blow-torch than know what he's thinking.

I slow my walk, wondering if I should go get a drink first, but Alice sees me and begins waving me over. Of course, she draws Mike's attention, and his eyes light up before he walks towards the dugout to meet us.

"Bella! Good, you're here. Where's Emmett? He came, right? We need all the guys we can get on our team." Alice looks around worriedly.

"Yeah, he went to get a drink," I answer, trying to ignore Mike's lingering form. He's standing patiently at my side, waiting for his turn to speak.

"Oh good. I'm gonna go talk to him real quick. Be right back," she says, and without another word she briskly walks away, leaving me alone with Mike.

Some friend she is. Of course, I don't think Mike annoys other people half as much as he annoys me. At least I'm pretty sure he isn't gawking at Alice's chest every five seconds while attempting inane conversation about how her day is going.

"How are you?" he eventually asks me. "I almost didn't recognize you in your regular clothes. You look good." He smiles and appraises me, his eyes flickering across – where else? – my chest.

I cross my arms. "I'm good."

"You ever been to one of these?" he inquires, gesturing towards the field.

"Nope. Just in high school," I say politely, looking around for Edward again. I see a flash of bronze hair in the doctor's dugout and my heart skips a beat.

"Oh really?" Mike asks, excited. "You must be pretty good then, huh?" I'm only half listening as I keep my gaze trained on Edward, all the while wondering how I can sneak away to go talk to him.

"I was decent," I say distractedly. "Excuse me for a second, Mike." I slip past him and quickly make my way to the other dugout, where Edward is talking to another doctor and smiling. I'm almost certain he hasn't seen me yet.

I'm about halfway there when someone steps in my path. But they don't_ just_ step in my path – they stand deliberately in my path, purposefully blocking my way. I start to move around the person before I see the shocking red hair, and then I freeze.

Dr. Ellis is standing there, hands on her hips, a small smile on her lips as she peers down at me. She's wearing stylish sweatpants and a tight shirt that hugs and accentuates her enormous rack. How she can operate around those things, I'll never know.

"You're Bella, right?" she asks, her smile never wavering. I mentally prepare myself for this conversation before plastering on a fake smile of my own.

"Yes. Dr. Ellis, right?"

"Oh, call me Victoria," she says, waving her hand dismissively. "I only make patients call me Dr. Ellis."

"Okay."

"You mind if we talk for a second?" she asks.

I glance over at Edward, who's still wrapped up in his own conversation. Damn him. He's supposed to sense my distress and come rushing to my aide like my shining, white knight.

Dr. Ellis follows my line of vision and cocks an eyebrow knowingly. She's still wearing the same damn smile, and I clear my throat before shuffling my feet in the grass and nodding.

"Yeah, that's fine," I reluctantly agree.

She leads me towards the back of the bleachers where it's less crowded but, thankfully, still open and bright and within clear view of everyone around us. I feel slightly better knowing she can't claw my eyes out and get away with it.

She crosses her arms and turns to face me. I mirror her stance, refusing to let her intimidate me.

"So…you and Edward?" she says conversationally.

Just hearing her say Edward's name gets me defensive.

"What about me and Edward?" I counter. I keep my voice pleasant. If an argument comes of this, I don't want to be the cause.

"That's what I was wondering," she says, her tone matching mine. "Are you two serious?"

_No_. No, we're not serious, and it's no one's fault but my own. I wish more than anything that I had a legitimate reason to tell her to keep her grimy hands off.

I want him. No one else. I want him and I don't want anyone else to have him.

What in the hell have I been doing?

"I don't really see how it's any of your business," I say bluntly. There. Niceties are over. Dr. Ellis's posture stiffens as she leans towards me, and I automatically lean back.

But she's a better woman than I thought. "Edward is my business, Bella," she assures me. "I don't know what he's told you about me, if anything, but I still care about him. I just want him to be happy. And if you're the person who _makes_ him happy, then that's fine. I can live with that. _But_… I'm starting to wonder if you can be that person."

I cross my arms defensively. "Why?"

"You're incredibly naïve, Bella. Have you looked at Edward? Do you hear what people say about him at the hospital? I can't think of _one_ girl who wouldn't jump at the opportunity to be with him." I'm not stupid. I know she's including herself in this category. "And he likes _you_," she goes on, "but you do nothing but push him away."

Has he talked to her about me? The thought is unsettling.

"I don't push him away," I argue. "We're friends. We talk all the time." The argument sounds weak even to myself.

"If you say so," she responds, letting the sentence trail off. She's studying me. Scrutinizing me. And I don't like it.

"Is this what you wanted to talk about?"

She shrugs. "I honestly just wanted to meet you. See what the fuss is about." The way she says it, you'd think there was no fuss to be had. And maybe she's right. I'm certainly not feeling particularly confident or self-assured at the moment.

"Right."

"Anyway, the game is about to start," she goes on. "It was nice meeting you. I'm sure we'll see each other around. Oh, and I'll tell Edward you said hello." She winks at me, flashing a glorious smile. I kind of want to punch her in the face. I'm not sure where this sudden rage is coming from, but the fact that she slept with Edward, stayed the night with him on multiple occasions, and will now be flaunting her huge chest in his face all day just really pisses me off.

I look down at my own chest as she walks away. It's nice, but average-sized. _Why can't you guys be bigger?_ I think with a scowl.

I follow her to the doctors dugout so that I can speak to Edward myself, but I don't even get halfway there before Alice is pulling on my arm, dragging me in the opposite direction. "Come on, Bella. The game is about to start. Mike said you played in high school, so we decided you could play short stop. We'll let you bat first or second, too. That way you can hopefully get on base and then Emmett can bat after you and bring you home."

Jesus Christ, the nurses must be desperate.

Once we're in the dugout, I look over at Edward. To my surprise, he's looking right back and waves when we make eye contact. But it doesn't escape my notice that the redheaded wench is now seated right beside him, their sides practically touching.

Hiding my scowl, I wave and take a seat by Alice.

I have no claim. My claim has not been staked. And the wench is evil.

My anxiety mounts, and I suddenly feel like I'm going to vomit.

"Are you okay?" Alice asks worriedly. "You _did _play in high school, right?"

She thinks I'm worried about a silly little baseball game. If only my thoughts were so simple right now, and not filled with plots for deboobation and murder.

I brush her off, saying, "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine."

"Good. Because this is no time for nerves. We have to be confident and calculating. There's _no_ room for error."

_Right_.

The nurses bat first. Edward plays first base, and my eyes stay glued to him the entire time. With the knowledge that I'll be up soon, I'm anxious about batting in front of him. I want to look good, to – dare I say it? – impress him, but I haven't played in years and was never all that great to begin with.

The first nurse strikes out. Not a surprise, considering she wasn't even holding the bat correctly. She shrugs her shoulders as she walks back to the dugout, handing the bat off to me while wishing me luck. It's already my turn, and I'm nothing but nerves. I wish I had the talent to hit the damn thing out of the park. Or even better, to sail it into left field and knock out Dr. Ellis. She's much less of a threat when unconscious.

I want to talk to Edward. I want to see him, talk to him, touch him. I want to tell him that wenches may not touch what is mine, because… Jesus baseball-loving Christ, I want him to be mine. The thought of Dr. Ellis even being able to entertain the notion of sleeping with him again is revolting.

I want the commitment. The obligation. I want Edward to promise me he won't sleep with anyone else. Or kiss anyone else.

Like a broken dam, it hits me all at once. And goddamn it, I want it all.

I stand at the base and raise the bat over my shoulder. Emmett is whooping and hollering behind me. Dr. Hale is playing right field, and now that I think about it, I haven't seen them talk to each other at all. But it's not really a big deal, considering I never got a chance to talk to Edward.

Mike catcalls from behind the fence. "Knock it out of the park, Bella!"

"Woo, Pockets! Hit me a home _fucking_ run!"

How embarrassing. Those two are going to be sadly disappointed. I ignore them both and get ready to swing, briefly glancing at Edward once and otherwise ignoring his gaze. I have to get in the zone if I want to have any chance of not making a complete fool out of myself. The pitcher is a skinny, Indian oncologist named Dr. Patel. He's wearing an actual baseball jersey and has the most determined look on his face I've ever seen.

I swing and miss the first pitch. Emmett and Mike are carrying on behind me, shouting words of encouragement. The second pitch goes wide and I don't swing. The third pitch is dead-center, and I swing and connect.

Emmett's cheers are deafening. I think the rest of the crowd is kind of shocked that I hit it; I know I sure am. I sling the bat down and take off running at full speed to first base. The ball sails past Dr. Patel and then eventually hits the ground, skidding along the dirt and grass. I can't really see what's going on. I'm running, I'm running…

My foot hits the base, and I'm safe.

Someone threw the ball to Edward, but not in time. I'm panting and immensely proud of myself. The nurses are cheering like this is some sort of great victory.

Edward tosses the ball back to Dr. Patel and creeps in closer to me, shortening the distance so that we can speak. I can't help the smile that forms when I see him approaching.

Every time I look at Edward, I get happy. This should have been a sign in itself, but apparently I never took it as such. Because I really am a freakin' idiot. And now the wench is on the loose, running around stalking her prey.

"Hey, good job," he tells me, nudging my arm with his own.

"I told you I was awesome," I cockily tease him.

"Hmm…I guess you are kind of awesome for a nurse's standards. You did at least get on base," he says, grinning as he provokes me.

I look at him and, fearful that I may not get another chance during the game, decide to ask him if we can talk afterwards. But I don't get the opportunity before a loud crack and an eruption of cheers interrupts me. I look up just in time to see the ball sailing high over my head and Emmett flying towards me at lightning speed.

Thinking fast, I make a beeline towards second base, only to hear a chorus of boos and cheers as the ball is caught in the outfield. I immediately book it back to first base, but I'm not fast enough. Edward catches the ball thrown by Dr. Hale and slams his foot down on the base, his expression apologetic as he gets me out of the game.

I didn't expect him to let me win or anything, but goddamn it.

I sigh before trudging over to center field. The doctors are dispersing, but I feel Edward touch my shoulder. I turn around and I'm met with a set of concerned eyes.

"Hey, you're not mad at me or anything, right?" he asks. "I couldn't just _not_ get you out. It would have been obvious."

Our conversation is hurried, because he has to go back to the dugout. I roll my eyes. "No, but don't expect me to go easy on _you_," I warn him, alleviating his fears. He smiles in relief and begins walking backwards.

"We'll see about that," he says cockily, then he turns and jogs away. Not gonna lie, I watch his ass like a total pervert. Sheesh, I'm really no better than Mike.

Dr. Ellis begins talking to him as soon as he returns, and I try not to stare. I try to control the bitterness that's spreading through my body.

The doctors are a lot better than we are. Like, a _lot_ better. The first guy hits it into the outfield and the three nurses out there have such a time throwing it back in that he almost makes a homerun out of it. Emmett is pitching, his face determined. When Dr. Hale comes up to bat, the sexual tension practically rolls off of them in waves. I'm pretty sure other people can see it too, because the stands have gone eerily quiet.

Emmett shows no mercy. But try as he might to strike her out, she slams it straight towards left field, nearly taking both our heads off. Seeing as how she grocery shops in high heels, I would have never pegged her to be someone who could hit the ball. The doctors score three runs right away. By the time we're up to bat again, the score is five to zero.

An obvious problem with the team division is that there are about fifteen doctors to our forty nurses. I highly doubt I'll get to bat again, but I'm perfectly fine with that. I'm too busy trying to inconspicuously spy on Edward to really be of much use anyway. Whenever he's not close to Dr. Ellis, such as when they're on the field, I'm able to relax enough to cheer on my team. A lot of the other nurses are wandering away to get food.

Emmett and the other male nurses bat more than the rest of us. We actually have two people on base when Emmett goes up to bat again, and I have my fingers linked through the chains of the fence as I cheer him on at the top of my lungs. Emmett gets out, but at least we manage to score a run.

Whenever I'm not spying, cheering, or brewing in my jealousy, I take the time to enjoy how good Edward looks. He's not wearing anything special – just shorts and a long-sleeved t-shirt. It's still a little chilly out, but it's starting to warm up a bit. His hair is the same usual mess, and he has grass clippings on his shoes from the freshly cut, wet field. Well, we all do, but the doctors are the worst since they all get more turns on the field.

Edward bats and actually does pretty well. As hot as it is seeing him play well, I pretend to be pissed off that we're losing. I get to bat one more time and get out on first base. Alice actually hits the ball and makes it all the way to third base, a feat that she brags about, because apparently she's usually pretty horrible.

Mike tries to talk to me through the fence, but I ignore him most of the time. When the game is finally over, we lose twelve to three, and no one pouts more about it than Emmett. He sits on the bench and sulks for a solid five minutes, and then he stands and tells me he's going to get something to eat. Comfort food, I suppose.

The crowd has split up, and now everything is kind of chaotic as everyone rushes to get food and drinks. I look for Edward, but he's nowhere to be found. I also can't find Dr. Ellis. Alice pulls my arm and we go get hotdogs; the entire time, I silently worry and fret over something that's probably all in my head.

"Who are you looking for?" Alice eventually asks me. I've been looking around the area for ages trying to spot him.

"Edward," I admit, sighing.

"Oh." She begins looking around, helping me search. "He could have already left," she offers unhelpfully.

"Yeah, I guess." The thought of him leaving without saying goodbye stings a little. The thought of him leaving with Dr. Ellis makes me physically ill.

If I could successfully punch myself in the face without being admitted, I'd totally do it right now.

I zone out while I get my food. My appetite is suddenly gone, but I nibble my hotdog, thankful when Emmett clamors up beside me and asks me if I'm ready to leave. He's still in a sour mood. We walk to his jeep in silence, and I look around one last time for Edward, only to be disappointed once more.

I know I shouldn't get upset about what's happening, but I am. I'm paranoid and I've filled my brain with irrational scenarios involving red and bronze and huge ass boobs. I'm beating myself up for not making it absolutely clear that Edward is the only person I want to see, and that I want to be the only person _he _sees. I've had ample opportunity to do so, but Dr. Ellis is right – I naively thought I'd have all the time I needed. That Edward would just wait on me, no matter what other women were throwing themselves at his feet.

I bet she's really getting her kicks from this crap.

I call Edward, but he doesn't answer. The ride to Emmett's house is spent in silence, as we're both in shitty moods. When we pull into his driveway, he stops the car and looks at me.

"I'm gonna have a few drinks," he says after a beat of silence. "You're welcome to join me." He steps out of the jeep and slams the door, not waiting to hear my answer.

I think over his invitation. I honestly can't stand the thought of sitting in my apartment alone while I worry myself to death. Even Emmett's bad mood is preferable. A few seconds pass, and then I let myself out and follow him inside.

He's already in the kitchen when I enter. "Do you like rum or whiskey?" he calls.

"Either, as long as it isn't mixed with Coke," I answer. I sit on his couch and sigh heavily. He enters the living room a few seconds later, a drink in each hand, and gives one to me.

"Enjoy," he says moodily before plopping down next to me. He begins drinking in silence. I sip my drink slowly, still crazy with worry.

I eventually excuse myself to the bathroom. When I return, Emmett is sitting in the exact same spot, the same moping look on his face. And what, exactly, is he so upset about? Losing a stupid baseball game isn't _that_ big of a deal.

"What's wrong with you?" I ask casually as I return to my seat. Emmett cocks an eyebrow at me.

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you so pissed off?" I elaborate.

"I'm not."

I scoff, getting irritated over such a simple denial. My bad mood really has no bounds right now. "And what the heck is going on with you and Dr. Hale?" I persist.

"Nothing."

"Yeah, right. One minute you're having sex and the next minute you're glaring at each other across the baseball field." I turn to him, but he's staring straight ahead, emotionless. "I haven't forgotten about that, by the way. Just because you refuse to talk about it doesn't mean the image wasn't scorched into my brain. I feel like it's been branded onto my eyelids."

Ragging on Emmett makes me feel slightly better. At least it takes my mind off Edward and my own stupidity for just a moment.

But Emmett doesn't say anything. He just stares straight ahead, blank. With a frustrated sigh, I give up and return to my drink.

"Fine," I hear him say. I look over at him in confusion.

"Fine?"

"Fine. I'll tell you," he says, and he turns to me, even more serious than he was on the baseball field. "We're friends, right Pockets?" he asks me, and I slowly nod. "Good. Cause I don't want my personal life spread all over the goddamn hospital. So basically, if you tell anybody what I'm about to tell you, I'll kill you."

He's so serious right now that I actually don't doubt his threat.

"I won't tell anybody," I assure, trying to disguise my eagerness.

"Good." He sighs and settles back against the couch before taking a long sip of his drink. When he finishes, he swirls his glass a little, making the ice clink against the sides. He's taking his sweet ass time and I'm getting impatient, but I don't rush him for fear of pissing him off and missing my chance at this opportunity.

Finally, a million years later, he begins. "Rosalie and I have actually been seeing each other for a while. Well, not seeing each other. But…sleeping together."

This doesn't really surprise me. I remain neutral. "Oh?"

He shrugs. "That's really about it."

"Cut the crap, Emmett," I say, exasperated. "What's with the glaring contests? And you told me you hated her on my first day."

"I do hate her."

"What the hell? You _hate_ her? Then why the heck are you sleeping with her?"

"You wouldn't understand," he says dismissively.

"Try me."

He sighs and runs a hand over his face. "You'll think it's fucking stupid. Women never understand this shit."

"The only way I'll think it's stupid is if it _is _stupid. So stop whining and just tell me already."

"Fine," he says angrily, relenting. "It's because she's a fucking doctor. Alright?" He kind of yells the last words a little, and I realize that this is obviously a really sore subject for him. I'm starting to get a little flash of déjà vu as I remember how I felt immediately after my breakup with Alec. I _hated_ doctors, and vowed I would never get involved with one again.

And look how far that got me.

But does Emmett really hate them as well? I don't know. We've never really talked about it.

"Do you hate doctors or something?" I ask, and he huffs in annoyance.

"Seriously? How do you think it would look, me dating a doctor? I'm a fucking nurse, Bella. That's already a kick in the balls for my masculinity. Give me a chick doctor for a wife and you might as well castrate me while you're at it."

I'm not sure if it's the fact that he's implying men should be doctors or that nurses should be women – both, probably. But I feel my annoyance and intolerance peaking. I set my drink on the table so that I can confront him with full-frontal pissyness without spilling whiskey on myself.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I ask him, rearing up to give him the ass-kicking I wish someone would have given me. "You're going to let a perfectly good woman with a good career go because you feel _emasculated_?"

"Damn right," he says, downing the rest of his drink in one gulp.

"That's stupid," I say. "You shouldn't give two shits what other people think about you. And there's nothing wrong with being a goddamn nurse, anyway."

"Oh, I'm stupid?" he scoffs. "That means a lot coming from you."

Now I'm pissed. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I've watched you pine over Edward for the past month and you're too chicken shit to move forward. He's a man with a dick, Bella. You really think he's gonna sit around waiting on you for the rest of his life?"

I must have touched a nerve before because this is the harshest Emmett has ever been towards me. He doesn't hesitate to call out bullshit on people he doesn't like, such as Aro, but I've never been on the receiving end of his ruthless words.

And a month isn't _really_ that long, is it? Besides, I was going to talk to Edward tonight. Before he disappeared with the wench, that is.

"I was gonna talk to him tonight actually," I defend myself. Emmett rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, right."

"Fuck you, asshole. I just got out of a five year relationship. What's your excuse? Scared someone else will wear the pants in your relationship? Oooh, how awful!" I mock him. Yeah, I'm being mean. But truthfully? He really hurt my feelings. Tit for tat and all that. I'm pissed off.

"Whatever, Bella." He shakes his head. "Where's Edward at now, huh? I saw you looking for him after the game."

I grit my teeth. "I don't know," I grind out. I sit back on the couch and debate whether to keep arguing or just leave. A fun game of baseball has quickly turned into the worst day of my freakin' life. I just want to go to bed and never get up again.

Seconds pass. Or maybe minutes. I have no idea.

Emmett finally speaks, his voice much quieter. "Look, Bella…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

I take a deep breath, overcome with relief at his apology. If Edward's having sex with another woman right now, then the last thing I want is to be at odds with Emmett too.

I can't exactly blame him for what he said. He's in a bad mood and I antagonized him. And my words were just as hateful.

"I'm sorry too," I say.

He sighs and rubs his face again. "I'm gonna make another drink," he says, standing and grabbing his glass. He makes his way into the kitchen, and I follow a few seconds later, lingering near the doorway.

"Hey, Emmett?" I ask.

He doesn't turn around. "Yeah?"

"You've known Edward for a while, so…where do _you_ think he's at?"

Emmett's shoulders tense briefly, then he turns around to face me. "Honestly? I don't know. But you want my advice?"

I shrug. "Sure."

"You should meet him at his house, tell him what you really want, and cut out the feministic bullshit." He turns around again to finish his drink.

I let his words sink in, and Emmett suddenly seems like Ghandi or something. Like this is the best advice I've ever received.

I clear my throat. "Well, uh… do you have his address?"

-x-x-

Edward lives on a nice street, where the houses are similar in shape and size, but different in build and style. None of the houses are very big, but they're spaced far apart, with large, open yards. Everything is clean and every yard is trimmed and clipped and clutter-free.

Edward's house is one-story and made of a tan brick color. I know it's his house because, aside from the number being right, I see his work shoes sitting on the porch outside the front door.

But his car is absent. The sun has set, his car is gone, and he won't answer his phone.

I suspected this would happen, but the unpleasant assumptions pain me more than I'd like. And even though I know it's pointless, I get out and knock on his door anyway.

There's no answer, of course. This must be my punishment for waiting so long. For being stupid. I knew what I wanted, but he didn't know that I knew. And now he's tired of waiting.

Too little, too late.

I want to cry, but I don't. It all seems kind of surreal right this second. I don't know for certain that he's having sex with Dr. Ellis, so it seems silly to stand there weeping on his porch over it.

I shouldn't have gotten attached to someone so quickly. I didn't _want _to get attached so quickly. But he makes it damn near impossible.

I plop down on the steps of his porch and debate my options. I could sit here and wait a little while, catching him when he comes home. Hopefully, he won't reek of wench stench when that happens. Or I could just leave and try to call him later.

Who am I kidding? I messed this up. I deserve to wait. I deserve to have wench stench poured down my nostrils when he arrives.

I wrap my arms around my knees and put my head down, getting comfortable. But only a few minutes pass before I hear the hum of a motor; I'm engulfed in a bright beam of light as a car pulls into the driveway, and tiny pebbles scrape the cement as each tire rolls to a stop.

My nerves hit me like a tidal wave, forceful and unrelenting. My heart feels like it's going to rip straight out of my chest. Edward wastes no time shutting the engine and climbing out of the car, and I quickly stand up.

"Bella?" His voice sounds confused as he slams the door shut and walks towards me.

I swallow back my nerves and wipe the nonexistent dirt from the back of my legs, feeling apprehensive as hell. He's still wearing his baseball clothes, his shoes still covered in grass. I stand on the last step, and he walks until he's directly in front of me, our heights equaled by the boost of the stairs.

There's no obvious wench stench wafting around, but I refuse to get excited just yet.

"What are you doing here?" he asks. He doesn't look upset to see me, merely curious.

"Waiting for you," I answer quietly.

"Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?"

"What?"

"At the game. You didn't say goodbye."

I'm confused. "I couldn't find you. I thought you'd left…"

He lets out a cross between an exhale and a chuckle, and then rubs the back of his neck. "I guess that explains it," he says, meeting my eyes again. He looks…relieved. "I went to help Dr. Cantrell unload some ice from his truck and we drank a beer real quick. When I came back I saw you, but by time I was finished helping him unload everything you were gone."

"Oh," I say stupidly. This is actually a poor word to convey how I'm feeling. I'm relieved. More than relieved – I could hug and kiss him and everyone else within my reach, assuming there was anyone else around. But it's just me and him, standing at his steps, eye level and alone.

"Oh," he mocks me, smiling. I consider feigning offense or saying something snarky, but really, who cares? He's here, standing in front of me sans wench stench, and I couldn't be happier.

"I called you," I inform him.

"I called you back."

I frown. "You did?"

"Yep. Just a little while ago. I didn't have my phone at the game, though."

"Oh," I say again, and Edward grins.

"So to what do I owe this pleasure, Bella?"

I look at him, swallowing hard. But who I see is nothing like Alec. Edward is older. More mature. More honest. He's experienced, he's patient, he's into me and he's willing. And maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to try this again, and I'll be able to get it right.

It's no longer too little, too late.

It's all or nothing.

* * *

The doctors vs nurses baseball game is actually a real thing the hospital I work for does every year. Good times.

Thanks to ms_ambrosia and passionmama for all they do. They seriously rock, and more often than not keep me from looking stupid lol.

I'm **mybluesky1** on twitter. I honestly don't know when the next update will be...hopefully by 2 weeks. I'm in the midst of the aforementioned cluster fuck right now and since the school I plan on applying to after I graduate only accepts like 60 out of every 1000 applications a year or something crazy like that, it's kind of important that I keep my grades as high as possible. But I do apologize for the slow updates lately.

Reviews are loved and always appreciated.

xo


	13. Chapter Twelve

A/N: If you're reading this and you're not at least 18, I'm going to hunt you down and wash your eyes out with soap. Yeah, I'm crazy like that. You have been warned.

**Disclaimer - Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

-x-x-x-x-

**Chapter 12 - This is Way More Fun Than Hating You**

"We should go inside, Bella. You're probably freezing."

Freezing? Right. I probably _should_ be freezing, but frankly, the world could crumble around me and I doubt I'd notice. I'm too preoccupied with everything that's happened – with everything I want to say – to take notice of trivial things like frostbite and hypothermia right now.

"Um…yeah. Right. Sure." What a brilliant conversationalist I've become. I wouldn't be surprised if Edward is only inviting me inside out of pity.

Dear God, _please_ don't let him be inviting me inside out of pity…

But he smiles and puts his hand on my back, guiding me up the steps. I rub my arms to create warmth while he unlocks his door, and then I'm ushered into his house. The draft that's created as Edward follows me inside causes a shiver to run down my spine.

"Hold on, I'll turn on the heat," Edward says quickly, moving past me. "Sorry, I haven't been home all day." He fiddles with his thermostat while I shrug.

"It's fine."

"It shouldn't take long to heat up," he goes on, returning to me. He kicks his grassy shoes off, so I go the same. "Do you want a jacket?"

My shirt suddenly feels like it's frozen to my body, but it doesn't bother me. Nothing matters except Edward's gaze. His words. The way he's now standing only inches from me, and if I leaned forward on my toes I could easily kiss him.

But I don't. I'm terrified. Nervous.

But why should I be? He's everything I want, right?

He pushes my hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear. His fingertips are like ice, yet they melt me from the inside out, defrosting any resolve I had left. I'm done trying to fight this.

"Sorry we kicked your ass at the baseball game earlier," he says suddenly, and my eyes widen in surprise. His own eyes are shining with mischief. "I warned you it would happen, though."

I punch him in the stomach. Not hard, but enough to make him double over defensively, one arm instantly shooting out to protect his stupid gut.

"Don't make me kick your ass _now_," I threaten him, but this was clearly the wrong thing to say – still doubled over, he suddenly attacks, grabbing me around the legs and hoisting me so far over his shoulder that I'm practically hanging upside down. I swear I'm going to fall, and I'm certainly screaming like a maniac, but it doesn't escape my notice that his ass is now right in my face. Like, _right_ there. It's all I can see and honestly all I think about for those precarious thirty seconds; even my life, which is clearly in jeopardy, takes second-place in this new shrine my mind has created for his tush.

"What'd you say, Bella?" Edward taunts me. "You're going to kick _whose _ass?"

He pretends to drop me and I nearly crap my pants in fright. _Fuck it_, if I'm going to die, I'm gonna make it worth it.

So I grab his ass.

This isn't a casual ass-grab. It couldn't even be considered friendly. It's aggressive. Angry, even. It portrays the wrath of all my pent-up sexual frustration from months past, and I squeeze like my life depends on it, still screaming my head off all the while.

I think I take Edward by surprise. It's kind of hard to tell, seeing as how I can't see his face. But he quickly stops taunting me and, with nauseating speed, I'm flipped through the air and land with a grunt on his couch.

The world spins for a second, and then Edward's face is in front of my own.

"So instead of kicking my ass, were you trying to rip it off?" he asks me seriously.

I'm panting, adrenaline coursing through my body. "You almost killed me," I moan, still a little dizzy.

"Who would I torment if you were dead?" This question comes out just as serious as the last.

"Good point."

"Come here." Curling his fingers through my belt loops, he pulls until I scoot myself further down on the couch, now completely on my back and fully beneath him.

I'm not exactly disappointed with our position. Yes, I want to talk to him. But I have the whole night. He's not going anywhere.

I won't let him.

"I'm glad you came over," he murmurs, his nose barely a centimeter from my own. His body isn't touching mine, and the gap between us feels like miles. Too far.

I pull my arm from between us and touch his jaw. I know my fingers must be frozen too because his face is searing beneath them. His breath warms my skin, and for a few short seconds, everything is silent.

I don't taint the moment with awkward words; instead, I lean forward and firmly press my lips to his, capturing his bottom lip between mine. His lips are cool, but his tongue is hot as it eagerly slips out to greet my own.

He moans into my mouth, and the sound seems to travel all the way down my body, the feeling almost electrifying. I slip my arm around his shoulder and tug until he lowers his weight onto me. My legs spread to either side of his hips to accommodate him, making our position closer, more intimate.

Our kisses become more heated, but never rushed. His hand travels from my hip down my thigh, and then under my shirt, around my waist. My own hands are pulling at his t-shirt, trying to will the offending garment off his body. He finally takes pity and whips it over his head, leaving his chest bare and free for me to explore and enjoy.

But my hands are cold. He hisses and sucks in his stomach when I touch the smooth, exposed skin.

"Sorry," I giggle against his lips.

"It's okay," he mumbles, and I guess he ignores my frosty fingers because I continue to explore, reveling in the feel of his hard body over mine, and he doesn't complain again. In fact, there's a lot of moaning and a lot of tingles on my part.

I want to take this man to bed and never leave the room.

I eventually get a little brave. Running my hands down his back, I allow them to linger at the waistband of his shorts, which is stretchy and allows for easy access. I think long and hard over whether I should proceed – would it be inappropriate? Too much? Too fast? But in the end, pure lust wins out, and I slip my hands under his shorts and boxers to give his bare bum a nice, firm squeeze. Edward responds by groaning and forcefully grinding his pelvis into me, and then he quickly pulls away, taking me by surprise.

"Shit," he mutters, moving to a sitting position on the couch. He runs a frustrated hand through his hair while I remove my legs from their sudden awkward position and sit as well.

"What? What's wrong?" I ask, alarmed. My heart is hammering. I have no idea why he suddenly withdrew.

"I just…God, Bella. I'm going fucking insane," he declares, exasperated. "And I don't want to push you to do anything you're not ready for. We really need to stop."

My heart plummets. My chest constricts. I feel like I've been punched in the gut.

Is this finally it, then?

"I- I'm sorry," I stammer. "I know I've been hell to deal with…"

"What are you talking about?" he interrupts me.

I swallow. "You said we need to stop."

"Yeah, we do," he confirms. "I'm gonna fucking explode if we don't." He follows his sentence with a dark, humorless chuckle.

I don't know what to say. I should offer to leave, but it's the last thing I want to do. I want to go back in time two weeks or maybe even twenty minutes and just tell him what I want without all the preamble. I want to lay it out there before he has time to reconsider things, to decide that I'm not worth it after all.

He grabs his shirt off the floor and puts it back on. A little part of me dies.

"I can go," I offer weakly, and Edward's eyes snap to mine.

"Why? You want to leave?"

"I just…do you want me to leave?"

"Of course I don't, Bella. If I had it my way you'd stay the night with me." As soon as the words leave his mouth he sighs and begins rubbing his face tiredly. "I didn't mean for it to sound that way," he groans morosely. But his words raise my spirits.

"I don't want to leave either," I quietly admit.

"Good," he breathes, looking relieved.

"Do you think we could talk for a minute?"

Edward looks at me, brows furrowed. "Okay."

In an instant, all the moisture leaves my mouth. It's like cotton. I look down at my hands while I try to think of the right words, and Edward waits patiently for me to begin.

"I, uh…" Where to start? Just spit it out? Work up to it? "I really like you, Edward. But you already know that…"

I guess that's something. Edward frowns slightly, but otherwise doesn't respond.

"And I know I told you I wanted time," I go on. "But things happened today and I started thinking that maybe some things are more important. And I'm not going to lie – seeing you flirt with other women, it…I don't know. I don't like it because I know there's nothing holding you back from choosing them over me."

"Well in my defense," Edward speaks up, "I feel the same way seeing you flirt with other guys. But I didn't flirt. When did I flirt with someone?" He frowns, most likely thinking over every encounter he's had with the opposite sex lately.

"You didn't _blatantly_ flirt, but when the woman is hot and I know she'd be all over you in a heartbeat – _and_ you're smiling and talking to her all flippin' day – it has the same effect," I clarify.

"Who are you talking about?"

"Dr. Ellis."

He frowns. "I didn't flirt with her, Bella. We're still friends, so we talk. It's completely platonic."

"Maybe for _you_," I argue.

"What does that mean?"

"It means she still has feelings for you."

He sighs and scratches his head. "So what if she does? You think that automatically means I'm gonna keep sleeping with her?"

"It's nothing you haven't done before," I mutter, but Edward hears and immediately takes offense.

"_Christ_, Bella. What do you want from me? _You're_ the one who keeps saying you don't want a relationship right now, yet you're mad because I talked to a friend today? So, basically, you would prefer if I pushed every female out of my life, yet you've given me nothing. _Nothing,_ Bella."

Fuck. This is _not_ going how I imagined.

"No," I say quickly. "That's not what I meant…"

"Then enlighten me. For the love of God, put me out of my misery and tell me _exactly what you want_."

The next words from my mouth just pour out without preamble. There's no holding them back, like a dam that caves beneath the pressure and bursts apart.

"You!" I exclaim. "I want _you_, okay? I don't want to take any more chances. I want you to promise me you won't sleep with her or anyone else, because I want _you_ to be obligated to _me_."

Edward's eyes are wide, and I can see his anger ebbing.

"Then I want you to do the same," he declares, matter-of-fact.

"I already have," I respond weakly. I feel like all my energy was poured into that one outburst. "It's been only you for weeks."

"Thank fucking God," he breathes, sighing in relief. He tugs on my shirt sleeve, urging me closer. "Please come here."

I waste no time crawling the short distance across the couch and climbing into his lap, my knees on either side of his hips as I face him. He wraps both arms around my waist and holds me to him.

"Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this?" he scolds me, leaning forward so that our lips are practically touching.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, and his lips meet mine, his touches slow and deliberate. I twist my fingers through his hair and force him closer, trying to devour everything I can in this moment. A huge weight has lifted from my shoulders, and I feel lighter than I have in years. There's no more worrying about what he's doing or who he's with – because finally, he's mine.

He groans in frustration before pulling back again. I lean in to kiss him some more, and he allows it once before raising both hands and capturing my face between them.

"What does this mean?" he wonders, and I frown.

"What?"

"Are you going to wear my Letterman jacket now?" he says teasingly. His smile is light and cute.

I can't help the grin that spreads as I try to imagine Edward as a football player or something. "You have a Letterman's jacket?"

"Well…no," he admits sheepishly. "But I have a nice lab coat."

"You want me to wear your lab coat?" I cock an eyebrow.

"You know what I mean."

"I'm pretty sure that concept doesn't apply past high school," I inform him.

He strokes my cheek with his thumb, pushing my hair behind my ear.

"That's a shame," he says, his lips suddenly kissing the sensitive skin of my neck. His breath is hot against my skin. "I kind of like the thought of you in my lab coat." His voice is suggestive. Oh dear.

"Well…you have to _earn_ the lab coat," I mumble, but frankly, I'm too distracted to think of a good reply. His lips are behind my ear, lightly nipping on the tender flesh. My entire body erupts in goose bumps.

"I think I could make that happen," he muses.

"I just…mmm…okay…"

With his hand in my hair, he pulls my face back to his and our lips collide forcefully. His tongue immediately begins exploring my mouth, our touches more urgent than before. My shirt is pulled over my head and thrown to the side, and moments later, his shirt follows. Skin to skin. My bra remains, and it's not even a nice one – it's a black sports bra I've had for at least a year. Go figure.

But Edward doesn't seem to mind. He palms my breasts through the fabric, his lips traveling to my neck again. I arch my chest towards him as he travels even lower, his fingers tugging down the fabric of my bra so that his mouth can graze the swell of my breasts. My own fingers are wound tightly in his hair, tugging, urging him to do more.

He lifts the bottom of my bra apprehensively, his cautious eyes seeking mine. "Is this okay?"

I nod, grabbing my bra and tugging it over my head. My nipples are exposed to the cool air for just a moment, and then Edward's hot mouth is covering one, his hand massaging the other. I moan, throwing my head back in pleasure, and moments later he shifts to pay equal attention to my other breast.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he breathes against my chest, and for a brief moment I think he's talking to the tatas and not me. That would be kind of strange, but perhaps he knows I harbor a hidden insecurity over Dr. Ellis's rack.

I just pant in response.

Edward twists, flipping me onto my back on the couch. He crawls over me, his knee between my legs, and our lips meet once again.

My legs wrap around his waist again, his erection digging into me as his hips grind forward. It's wonderful and exciting and terrifying.

"You'll have to stop this, Bella," he pants, as if he knows exactly what I'm thinking. "I don't want to rush you, but…" He kisses me again. "God, you feel so fucking good," he finishes.

I wish I _could_ stop it. Lay some boundaries, be a proper lady. But he's right, it just feels too good. I'm surrounded by his scent, his taste. Surrounded and overwhelmed, and I never want it to end.

Maybe it's too soon, but does it matter? We both want it. I would literally ache without it…

Denying ourselves would just be ridiculous.

"God, I don't want it to stop," I moan desperately. My fingers claw his back, my hand slipping beneath his shorts again. His ass is perfect, and I use it as leverage to grind his hips even harder where I need him. He moans and pulls away a moment later, stumbling awkwardly to his feet.

"Come with me," he urges, breathless, and he helps pull me off the couch by the hand. I'm instantly attached to him again, our kisses frantic and needy as I pull his face to mine with a hand on his neck. I don't think we'll ever make it to the bedroom at this rate. We walk awkwardly through the room, bumping into his recliner, but we never pull away. When we reach the hallway, he spins me around and pins me against the wall, our mouths still devouring and more insistent than ever.

I wedge my hand between us and palm him through his shorts, making him groan into my mouth. He eventually rips himself away so that he can attack my neck, and our heavy pants fill the room as he hitches my leg over his hip, forcefully pushing himself against me. We continue this way a few more seconds before he grabs my other leg with his free hand, crouching slightly so that he can hoist me completely off my feet. I wrap my legs around his waist instantly, clinging to him, and he walks backwards a few steps before finally turning and completing the journey to the bedroom.

The door is pushed open forcefully, causing it to slam into the wall. I kiss him hungrily, neither of us flinching at the sound, while he stumbles forward and eventually drops me onto his bed.

He crawls over me, immediately tugging at the button of my capris. When they're undone, I lift my hips so that he can pull them off. As soon as they're discarded on the floor, I pull him back to me, crushing our lips together while I eagerly push his shorts down his legs, taking them as far as I can reach. Edward finishes the job for me, and soon we really are skin to skin, our underwear the last flimsy barrier between us.

Edward kisses my neck again, then my chest, taking one hard nipple into his mouth. "Mmm…you taste so good," he moans. I claw at his hair desperately, panting and eager as his hand slides down my stomach and eventually strokes me through my panties. I arch off the bed at his touch, and Edward looks up at me, his lips still caressing my skin.

"Does that feel good, baby?" he murmurs, and his voice alone is enough to drive me wild. It's been too long…_too long_.

"Fuck yes…God, it feels _so_ good," I moan. Taking that as his cue, he slowly grabs my panties on either side of my hips and pulls them down. They're carefully maneuvered over my legs and set aside, and his mouth grazes the very bottom of my stomach, just a few painful inches from where I ache the most.

His hand is there again, no fabric between us, two fingers slipping through my folds while his thumb grazes my clit. I'm panting uncontrollably as I throw my head back, already close to the edge. I'm not sure if it's Edward or the months spent without sex – or maybe a combination of both – but as soon as his mouth replaces his hand, his tongue tasting me with long, languid strokes, I feel like I'm going to lose control completely.

As good as it feels, I want him inside of me, and not just his fingers. "Edward," I gasp, pulling him back up to me. "Stop…I can't…I want _you_."

I'm probably not making any sense, but Edward seems to understand. He briefly kisses me again before leaning over and snatching open the drawer of his bedside table. He rummages around a few seconds before pulling it out further – too far – and causing the entire drawer to slip from the table and fall to the floor. He curses as it hits the ground.

"What's wrong? What are you doing?" I ask him, sitting up on my elbows to watch. He finally comes back to me, and I swear he looks like he's going to cry.

"Fuck," he curses under his breath. "I don't think I have any condoms."

"What?" My voice rises a few octaves, and I quickly try to regain control. "What do you mean? Don't you have one in your wallet or something?"

"I'm not fucking sixteen, Bella."

"How can you _not _have one? You're a guy. You're supposed to have a stash!"

I lean over the bed a peer at the fallen drawer, scanning its contents with my eyes. Finding a condom would be like discovering the Holy Grail right now. But alas, there's nothing valuable there - just pens and paper, batteries and gum.

"I just…I haven't needed one in a while," he sputters. "I didn't even realize I was out." He looks at me. "Are you on the pill?"

I brighten for a second, and then I realize…_fuck_. I ran out last month and haven't taken the time to get a refill. Honestly, I don't know any OBGYN's in the area, and the thought of going to a shitty one makes me squeamish. As with all doctors. So I've been procrastinating. I had fleetingly considered Edward's mom, since he mentioned she was an OBGYN, but the thought was squashed almost as soon as it formed. There was no way I was going to let my potential lover's mother examine my hoohah.

"I ran out," I groan, laying back on the bed in defeat. I close my eyes, trying not to dwell on my horrid luck or Edward's lack of faith in us ever hooking up. If I had of known this, I would have stocked my purse full of condoms before coming over. I've actually never had to deal with the whole condom issue before – I had faithfully taken my birth control for years, absolutely terrified of producing an accidental offspring with Alec. But with no one getting between my legs lately, their refill didn't really cross my mind as anything urgent.

The bed dips as Edward moves around me, and then I feel his nose touching mine, his lips seeking my chin. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I could go to the gas station…"

I wrap my arms around him, pulling him closer. We kiss softly for a moment.

"I don't want you to leave," I whine, refusing to lessen my hold. His groin presses between my legs, his boxers still separating us. The friction alone is amazing. I slide my arms down his back, struggling to push the fabric down.

"Take these off," I instruct.

"Bella…" His tone is warning, his hand quickly stopping mine.

"We're not gonna do anything. I just…_please_, Edward."

That's all it takes, and he's quickly pushing them down his hips, lifting slightly above me so that he can pull the elastic band over his erection. I watch as it springs free, completely fascinated and more turned on than ever. He lowers his body back to mine, covering me as he kisses my neck.

The length of his dick presses against me now, hard and perfect. I run my nails down his back while I move my hips, causing his shaft to slide up and down against me. Everything is slick and wet, and Edward groans loudly, immediately catching on and moving his hips with mine.

"You feel so good," he moans. "I want to be inside you so fucking bad." His head is buried in my shoulder, his breaths hot against my skin. While I'd have to agree about having him inside of me, this alone feels incredible – the head of his dick continues to slide between my folds, pressing at my entrance but never pushing through. Each pass grazes my clit and nearly pushes me over.

"God, Edward…that feels amazing. I could come. I'm gonna come," I pant.

"Yeah? This feels good?" He kisses my lips softly, and I place one hand on his perfect tush, guiding his hips, while my other hand twists in his hair. We may not be joined, but there's still something extremely intimate about this situation.

"So good. So, so, so, so good."

He moves his hand between us, placing two fingers on my clit. "What about this?"

That's all it takes. I dig my nails into his skin, tensing as I completely lose control beneath him. His name leaves my lips in short bursts, and when it's over he kisses me hard, shoving his tongue into my mouth. We kiss for several moments before he pulls back and focuses his attention on my jaw, then my neck.

"Did that feel good, baby?" He's still rock-hard beneath me, still moving his hips.

"So good," I sigh, spent.

I take a second to recover, and then muster the energy to push him off me, urging him to lie on his back. He easily complies, and I straddle his waist before kissing him again. Edward's hands run down my sides, my hips, and down my outer thighs as our tongues slowly caress.

I eventually pull away and scoot down the bed so that I'm on my knees in front of his cock. I admire it a moment, and then wrap my hand around it, slowly moving it up and down, causing Edward to moan loudly. The underside of it is still slick with my own juices.

"God, Bella. That feels incredible. So fucking good."

Satisfied, I lower myself down, slowly licking from the base of his cock to the head. I can taste myself on him, but it doesn't bother me in the slightest. If anything, it turns me on even more.

Edward gasps before placing his hand gently against the side of my head. I waste little time teasing him before taking him completely in my mouth, causing him to groan and push his hips forward. I take him in as far as I can, and he throws his head back and closes his eyes, biting down hard on his bottom lip.

Beautiful.

I continue for a few more minutes, wrapping my hand around the remaining length that doesn't fit in my mouth. His hand winds tighter in my hair, pulling lightly, and I look up to find him gazing down at me, his face contorted into an expression of pure bliss.

And then he's pulling me off of him, quickly replacing my mouth with his hand as he pulls me up his body and seals us together with a hard, searing kiss. His hand continues to pump, and only seconds later he's coming all over his stomach, groaning into my mouth as he finishes.

We're both panting, both a little flushed. He's a lot sticky, and his hand leaves his dick to run over my backside. I straddle him gently.

"I would have finished," I tell him. Swallowing cum isn't my favorite thing in the world, but I would have gladly done it for Edward. This unnatural high I've just fallen from does little to tame the butterflies in my stomach, and every little touch by him just scatters the little critters around, making the feeling worse. But I _like_ the feeling, and satisfying him would please me like no other.

"I didn't know," he murmurs, kissing me again. Now that we've started, it's like we can't stop.

"Well…now you do."

_Kiss_.

"I should probably go clean up."

_Kiss_.

"If you _have _to."

_Kiss._

"You like me messy?"

Suggestive eyebrows. Another kiss.

"I like you anyway I can have you."

"Will you wait for me if I take a shower real quick? I still need to clean up from the baseball game."

"I guess you'll have to go take a shower and see."

I eventually pull away so that he can slide out of bed, and he disappears into the master bath, grinning at me one last time. I watch his tush as he goes, of course. Such a beautiful tush. Now I'll never be able to see it in his scrubs again without wanting to maul it.

I hear the shower turn on, the shift in the spray of water as he steps beneath it. I take a moment to look around his bedroom – tan, natural colored walls with white trim, a simple dark dresser with a matching bed frame. His comforter is dark blue and basic and ungodly comfortable. There's a framed diploma of his medical licensure sitting on the floor against the wall, like he hasn't gotten around to hanging it. On the dresser, there's a photograph of him and who I presume to be his mother; the woman is an older, feminine replica of the man in the bathroom, and he has his arm around her shoulders while smiling.

I consider getting dressed, but then decide that I could use a shower myself. Not to mention there's a hot, wet doctor who may as well be calling my name. Or if not, my body is _definitely _calling his. I sneak into the bathroom, saddened by the fact that it's too steamy to see him through his glass shower door. Just a slight, beige blur is all I can make out.

I try to be stealthy – to sneak up on him without being seen – but he hears me as soon as I open the shower door. It's a shame because I was really looking forward to watching him shower for a moment. Uninhibited, wet and soapy. But I'm not disappointed when he grins and makes room under the spray of water, nor when he pulls me flush to his body and runs his hands down my back again.

"I was wondering if you were ever going to come in here," he admonishes.

"You could have asked me," I scoff. "And I was a little busy snooping through your underwear drawer."

"Find any incriminating evidence?"

"Well there was a very filthy pair of tighty whities…"

He attacks me with his lips, latching onto a sensitive area under my ear while gripping my sides. It tickles, and I squeal and try to pull away. But eventually, I relent. My eyes roll to the back of my head and I get a sweeping view of his shower, which is…well, huge. Conveniently so.

"Your shower is, uh…impressive," I tell him. It has a spray on either side, gorgeous brown tile, and a bench. Well, the bench is actually an extension of the wall, made with the same tile, but I assume it's there to sit on.

"I had it remodeled when I moved in," he replies.

"What else did you remodel?"

"Nothing. Just this."

Our lips find each other again, his wet and slick from the water. His body is hot and slippery as I slowly run my hands over his shoulders, his neck, his back, wanting to touch him all over.

"Have you washed yet?" I ask, pulling back and reaching for his bottle of body wash. I pop the lid and sniff its contents, nearly fainting right there on the shower floor. It's Edward's scent…like _bottled Edward_.

I am so stealing this body wash. Or at least stocking up on a supply of my own.

"Nope," he answers, and I pour a large glob of soap into my hands, not even bothering with a sponge. He doesn't have any feminine smelling body wash, but who cares? Now I'll get to smell like him all night. Maybe all week, if I can manage to get away with it. The smell is intoxicating.

I rub my hands together to get a good lather going, then begin rubbing his shoulders, his chest…trailing further, further down before I move back up again, teasing him. He's already getting hard again. His eyes close and he tilts his head back for a moment.

"That feels so good," he tells me. "Everything about you just feels…_so _good."

I'm feeling triumphant. Maybe even a little cocky. I continue exploring until I'm gripping his shaft, pumping slowly, feeling him harden in my hand. He kisses me hard on the lips and walks us a step or two backwards, then turns and sits on the bench. He tugs on my hips and I practically melt down into his lap, his body still slick from the soap.

We kiss feverishly for a moment, my hand still between us, still stroking and squeezing. I really wish we had a goddamn condom. I want to sink down on top of him so badly I can barely stand it.

_I solemnly swear, for as long as we both shall live, that I will never be without possession of a condom again._

_Amen._

He shifts beneath me, thrusting his hips forward. His hand slides between my legs and he begins stroking me, his thumb moving small circles right where I need him while two fingers slip inside. I moan and kiss him harder, pump his dick faster, trying to imagine it's his cock inside of me and not his fingers.

"I want to be inside you so bad," he groans, mirroring my thoughts. "You feel so good around my fingers. So hot and tight."

Oh God.

He twists his free hand in my hair, tugging gently so that my head tilts back and my neck and chest are exposed. He uses this to his advantage, kissing and nipping at my neck, my collar bones, my chest.

"Can you imagine how my cock would feel inside of you?"

Oh, I like the dirty talking doctor. I like it _a lot_.

"Can you?" he repeats, giving my hair a tiny tug. I can feel the pressure building in my belly, threatening to send me over at any moment.

"Fuck yes," I pant. "I can't _wait_ to have you inside of me."

He pulls me to him and kisses me hard, the pressure almost painful. His hand leaves my hair and gropes my breast instead, and moments later I'm soaring, falling right over the edge, his name leaving my mouth in short, repeated bursts.

Edward places his hand over mine, guiding my strokes, adjusting my grip. He takes a little longer, but soon he's joining me, his face buried against my neck as he cums against his own stomach once again.

The water spray has gotten cool, but we're both panting, exhausted. Uncaring. My body is limp against his, my arms around his shoulders as I pant against his chest. His hands stroke up and down my back.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" he eventually asks, pulling back slightly to gauge my reaction. I'm sure it's not exactly what he wants to see – my eyes widen slightly, my heart rate speeding all over again as a million thoughts and what-ifs run through my head.

"You don't think it's too soon?" I ask, uncertain.

"I don't care if it's too soon. I want you in my bed with me."

Everything is moving fast. One minute I'm confessing my true feelings, the next minute we're having sleepovers.

But how can it be wrong when it feels so _right_?

"I don't have any clothes," I tell him.

"You can wear some of mine. Or nothing at all, if you want. I'm not opposed to that."

He grins cheekily and I smack his arm. Just for show, really, because sleeping naked in Edward's bed actually sounds fabulous. But I won't tell him that.

"I don't have a toothbrush," I go on, and Edward pretends to look defeated.

"Ah, shit. You're right. Guess you can dry off and go home then." He tries to push me off his lap, dismissing me, but I pull him close again with a scowl.

"Shut up. Do you have one I can use?"

"You can use mine. Unless you think I have gross doctor germs."

"Yeah, your doctor germs _are_ pretty gross. I might need a shot of penicillin when I'm done. I hope you have a prescription pad handy."

"Well lucky for you, I actually keep a case of penicillin under the sink for such an occasion."

He wraps his arms around me securely, kissing me again.

"Wow, that is lucky," I tell him, giggling. "Share your toothbrush often?"

"All the time. I have people lining up outside my door waiting to use it."

"So no one's died, then?"

He kisses my cheek, then the corner of my mouth, then my lips; my fingers tangle in his dark, wet locks, pulling him closer.

"No, Bella. No one's died."

We spend a few more minutes this way, and then the water _really _gets cold and we hasten to finish washing up. Edward gets out of the shower first and brings me an old, thick towel, wrapping it snuggly around my body before pulling me backwards against his naked torso again. I'm giddy, absolutely overcome with happiness at being able to touch him the way I want. At knowing he's here with me and not wrapping a naked, red-headed wench in a towel instead.

We brush our teeth and he gives me a shirt and a pair of boxers to wear. He asks me if I want to watch TV, but I don't. I just want to lay with him, feel his skin, hear his heartbeat. He climbs into the bed after me and presses his chest against my back, his knee slipping between my legs as he wraps an arm around me and pulls me closer. His face is buried in my shoulder, his nose in my wet hair.

The silence stretches for a moment, but neither of us falls asleep. His hand is under my shirt, his thumb rubbing light circles on my bare belly.

"Did you ever report Dr. Byers?" he finally asks. I inwardly groan as I recall the time spent writing up the two page report. Hours of my life that I'll never get back.

"Yes," I answer. "Kate practically made me write a book report. I wrote that I refuse to take any of his patients from now on and if he ever throws anything even _remotely_ in my direction again, I'm suing him _and_ the hospital. Kate wrote one, too."

"So did I," Edward supplies. I'm a little surprised to hear this.

"You did?"

"Of course. He was out of line."

"You grabbed me in the hallway," I remind him, my voice teasing. "That day I tried to piss you off…"

"You _did _piss me off," he interrupts. "I'd never even seen you before, and the first thing you did was try to make me look stupid in front of a patient. It's like you were out for blood."

"Yeah…sorry about that. But in my defense, I think it was good for you. Had to knock that huge head down a peg or two before the size got out of control."

"You still think my head is huge?" he asks, pretending to be hurt.

"Actually…your hair has been looking pretty poofy lately," I lie. I love his hair. "Kind of obscures how large your head really is. Run out of hair product?" I reach forward to grab his locks, which are still wet and not at all poofy. Edward's face twists in comical indignation as he grabs my hand, immediately rolling over on top of me and squashing me just like he did that day on the couch.

"Is that right?" he asks mischievously, purposefully crushing me with all his weight. He would be the meanest fat kid known to mankind. I squeal and struggle beneath him. "Take it back," he demands.

I refuse to at first, giggling, but this only causes him to attack my sides with his fingers, torturing me into submission.

"Fine! I take it back! I take it back! I love your stupid hair!"

He rolls off of me and I turn towards him, still panting from exertion as I snuggle against his chest.

A few minutes of silence pass, and then I say, "Hey…Edward?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think we would have ever liked each other if we hadn't been set up on that blind date?"

He thinks about this a moment. "I don't know," he finally answers. "Do you think we would?"

"I don't know either," I say. "But I'm really glad things turned out the way they did. What we did tonight was way more fun than hating you."

Grinning, Edward pulls me even closer, planting a quick kiss on my lips. And then another. I run my hand over his jaw, letting the tips of my fingers graze his short stubble, and then his smiling, soft lips.

He kisses my fingers. "I'm really glad, too."

* * *

A/N: Thanks, as always, to passionmama and ms-ambrosia for all they do. And thanks so, so much for all the reviews. Hearing what you guys think is half the fun.

I'm gonna try to put all of the outtakes in the outtakes section over the next few days, so they will be available to read if you didn't review. RL has been hectic lately, so if you reviewed late and didn't get them, I apologize.

I'm **mybluesky1 **on twitter for teasers and updates.

Next update...two weeks? So far, I've managed to get them out quicker than 2 weeks, so hopefully that will continue. I'll do my best to get it out asap.

xoxo


	14. Chapter Thirteen

A/N: Someone pointed out that I should list the medical references at the beginning of the chapter so that you guys can glance at them and won't be confused while reading. While I don't think they'll get read that way, I did want to point out that this chapter has lots of medical references, so if you want you can scroll down to the bottom real quick and read through them first.

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

-x-x-x-x-

**Chapter 13 - Show Me**

"Tell me something about yourself."

My fork scrapes across the glass plate as I cut and spear another piece of scrambled eggs. It's the morning after and I decided to cook breakfast for us, but this was made difficult considering Edward had no bacon and his bread was turning moldy on the ends. But he did have an unopened box of pancake mix and a half dozen eggs, so I was able to whip something up from the few ingredients available.

"I hardly ever have time to cook," he'd told me. "I'd probably make sure that pancake mix hasn't expired."

I looked at the box quizzically. "Pancake mix expires?"

"I have no idea."

Turns out, it _does_ expire, or at least it has a _Best By_ date. But luckily, that date hadn't passed, so I had no qualms about whipping up our makeshift breakfast with these ingredients.

Now we're sitting at his breakfast bar, both of us perched on a stool and sitting so close that our bare thighs touch. We're both wearing a pair of his boxers and a t-shirt. Edward pauses with his fork halfway to his mouth. "What do you want to know?" The fork completes its journey and he chews slowly.

"What's your middle name?" I start.

"Anthony."

"Oh yeah. I guess I knew that," I reply sheepishly, remembering our first date.

He quirks an eyebrow. "How'd you know?"

"It's what Emmett told me your name was during our blind date."

"Wow. That was pretty sneaky… So he didn't lie or anything," he muses around a mouthful of food. He's already digging around on his plate, readying his next bite.

"What did he tell you my name was?"

He shoots me a quick glance, looking unsure. "Um…Isabella."

"_Isabella_?" I scoff, laughing. "Was this the big head thing? Is that why you didn't remember my name?" I tease.

"You said your name was _Bella_," he says defensively.

I dissolve into a fit of laughter while Edward shoots me a dirty look. The petulant frown he's sporting is beyond cute.

"What's _your_ middle name?" he demands.

"Marie," I choke out between giggles.

"Marie…" He tests the name out, letting it roll off his tongue. Then he moves on. "What's your favorite city?"

"Oh, uh…honestly?"

"Of course."

"I guess here," I say. I feel my face heating, but I'm hesitant to tell him that the people here are the reason why I like it best. Emmett, Alice, Irene, Charlie… and, of course, Edward. Edward, who's made nearly everything more enjoyable. Work, baseball, showers, sleepovers…

He looks surprised. "Here?"

"It's a beautiful city," I respond, shrugging.

"You're right. It is," he agrees with a smile.

"What about you? What's your favorite city?"

"I liked Chicago for a long time. But Seattle has grown on me, too."

"Yeah?"

He looks at me, his eyes penetrating. He's not just seeing my face, my skin, my smile. He sees deeper than that. He sees _me_.

He always sees me.

"Yeah," he responds, reaching out to push a lock of hair from my face. He leans forward and plants a soft kiss on my lips, causing my eyes to flutter closed. "In fact, it grows on me more every day."

-x-x-

My morning with Edward had been a precious thing, not something to be taken for granted. We had awoken pressed together, his crotch in my tush, his face in my hair; his arms were wrapped tightly around me, and he moved his hips ever so slightly to create a warm, delicious friction.

Our shower was essentially a repeat of the night before. I put his clothes back on for breakfast, and then we watched TV and hung out until it was time for him to get ready for work. Several times, I considered leaving to buy some condoms, but in the end, I think there was a mutual understanding that we didn't want our first time to be a rushed experience prior to him leaving for work. Also, the thought of leaving to buy condoms kind of killed the mood.

Nonetheless, we wanted to take our time. We wanted to _enjoy_.

When it's time for him to leave, I put my old clothes back on and go to the supermarket, where I find myself in some kind of condom haven. Ribbed for her pleasure? Yes, please, that sounds fantastic. Twisted pleasure? Not sure what that means, but why not? Fire and Ice? _Holy crap_! People seriously want their junk to feel like it's on fire? The thought alone conjures up some nightmarish images of using _Icy Hot_ for lube or something, and my hoohah cowers in fear right there in the grocery aisle.

What the hell happened to just plain condoms, anyway?

Speaking of which, I need to call Alice and inquire about a good OBGYN. Then we can just forget about this whole condom and fiery crotch business.

"Hey Bella," she says as she answers the phone. "What's up? You and Em kind of took off yesterday."

The lady at the cash register is ringing me up. She's older, with thinning gray hair and judgmental eyes. I at least have the decency to blush as I shove my massive condom stash into her hands.

"Yeah, sorry about that," I mumble into the phone. "We weren't really feeling up to socializing after the game."

"Yeah, he was really grouchy," she observes. "It's because Dr. Hale caught his ball, isn't it?"

I hadn't thought about it before, but knowing what I know now, it makes a lot of sense. "I don't know. I guess it could be." I'm not really sure what Alice knows concerning Emmett's 'situation' with Dr. Hale, and I don't want to betray his confidence by being the one to tell her everything. Believe it or not, I owe him a lot right now.

"Typical. He's always been a sore loser."

I pay for my condoms, and then take the bag and exit the store. "I guess."

"So what are you doing?"

"Nothing," I lie. "Getting some groceries."

"That's cool. I'm waiting on Jasper." Her voice takes on a faraway, dreamy tone, and I can't help but smile.

"You guys going out?"

"Maybe. I mean…_hopefully_ not," she answers, her voice now a lingering, suggestive drawl. I grin as I unlock my car and toss my bag into the back. I wish I could say I was waiting on Edward. I guess in a way I am, but _damn it_, he just went to work. He's saving lives and being sexy while I'm stuck here, alone, with my dirty baseball clothes and variety condom stash.

I'm pretty sure this is the first time I've ever _wanted_ to go to work.

"I actually needed to ask you about something, um…_staying in_ related," I tell her as I crank up my car.

"What do you mean?"

"Which OBGYN do you use?"

"Dr. Cullen," she answers promptly.

"Edward's mom?"

"No, Edward," she replies sarcastically. "Yes, his mom. Who else?"

I'm a little aghast at the admission. "You don't feel weird letting his _mom_ examine your cooch?" I ask in disbelief.

"No. Why would I?" A pause, and then: "Bella Swan! Have you slept with Edward?"

"No!" I say quickly as I back out of the parking lot. Alice huffs on the other end of the line, and I can tell she isn't buying my answer.

"You are such a bad liar. If you're not sleeping with him then why do you care about his mother seeing your goods? She's a doctor, Bella. A _goods_ doctors. She's seen _lots_ of _goods_."

"If I tell you something, you promise not to say anything?"

"Yeah, of course."

"I'm serious, Alice. You can't even tell Jasper."

"Bella, I assure you, Jasper isn't interested in your sex life." I can imagine her rolling her eyes, but I don't believe for one second that she won't have some sort of gossip girl gab fest with Jasper after they do…whatever she's planning for tonight. I shudder and try not to think about it.

"Right. Well it kind of sounds like you're interested enough for the both of you," I point out.

"Damn right I am. Now spill."

I sigh, then proceed to tell her – in vague terms – that Edward and I both agreed to only see each other, but that we still haven't had sex due to our 'issue.' Alice heaves a loud gasp, then begins spouting off alternatives to proper birth control, such as "pulling out" and the morning-after pill. I tell her she should be ashamed, because she's a nurse and should know the pulling out method doesn't always work, to which she calls me a prude for not already having a condom supply in my purse.

And what about STDs? Well according to Alice, doctors don't get STDs. Because they're doctors, so why would they?

_Right._

And since when do women carry around condoms in their purse, anyway? I always thought it was the man's responsibility to keep one in their wallet. I guess this is what five years and a bad sex life does to you.

In the end, she finally gives me the name of a doctor I can use. "His name is Dr. Cooper," she tells me. "He works in the same office with Dr. Cullen. I hear he's really good, too."

"Thank you, Alice."

"You know, if you let his mom be your doctor, she could deliver all your babies."

"What is _with_ you and babies? Christ, we've only been together for like twelve hours. We haven't even had sex yet."

"I'm just _saying_, Bella," she says indignantly. "In the delivery room they usually only allow two people to be in there with you. This way, his mom won't count as one of the people."

"I'm not worrying about that right now. Right now, all I want is a pack of magical little pills so I can hump her son whenever I feel like it, sans babies. Alright?"

Alice sighs in defeat. "Fine, it's your delivery room."

-x-x-

"Can I take your picture?"

Mike is leaning against the wall, his right leg bent behind him and propped on the brick exterior. He looks at me, frowning for just a second, and then his lips turn upwards into a knowing smirk.

"Why? Want to carry around a shot of this beauty wherever you go?" He uses the hand holding the cigarette to gesture to himself, sweeping it down his body. A trail of gray smoke follows his movements.

I wrinkle my nose. "No, I just think it's kind of funny that you're smoking right in front of a no smoking sign."

He frowns again before glancing behind him, then quickly takes another draw off his cigarette before throwing it on the ground and stomping it out with his foot. "Then no, you can't take my picture," he huffs defensively. A drastic change from his mood just seconds prior. "The last thing I need is you running around with incriminating evidence in your pocket."

And the last thing our chronic lung disease patients need is him coming back inside reeking of sooty Marlboro lights. But I don't say this, even as I remember what a pulmonolgist had said to a patient at the last place where I had worked. The patient was short of breath, and he went in to see her. "I feel like I can't catch my breath," she'd told him. "Well," he'd responded calmly, "that's what happens when you smoke a pack a day for fifty years and ruin your lungs." The patient had just nodded regretfully and agreed.

I roll my eyes. I'm not in the mood to get into a spat over Mike's health.

"I was just kidding, Mike. Geez." I grab the handle of the door, about to go inside and begin my work day, when his voice stops me.

"So…you and Dr. Cullen, huh?"

I pause and turn around to face him again, frowning. "What about me and Dr. Cullen?"

"Are you guys together yet?"

It's been three days since my night with Edward, and I still haven't gotten to see him again. He ended up having a long day and staying at work until almost two in the morning the night before. He called me before I went to sleep and we spoke briefly, but it wasn't nearly enough.

I miss him terribly. For the first time ever, I'm ecstatic about coming to work. And here Mike is, trying to ruin my day before it even begins. I don't even know what to tell him about us, because we haven't talked about whether or not we're going to keep it a secret at work. A part of me thinks our work relationship should be strictly professional, while another part of me wants to sing our new status from the rooftops.

But I don't sing, or even hum. Not yet.

"Why do you ask that?" I keep my voice skeptical, curious. I wonder if Alice told anybody what I said.

He shrugs. "You're just all over him. All the time. Whenever I see you guys together, I mean. And it's cool, I get it. He's a doctor, and what girl doesn't want a doctor, right?" His voice is a little bitter. Jealous.

I try not to get irritated, but I'm easily failing. "I don't know what you're talking about, Mike. You barely know me, so it's kind of shitty for you to assume I'd date someone for their status."

He chews on the corner of his lip a moment, his eyes boring into mine. "Yeah, you're right," he finally says. He looks properly chastised, which surprises me. He sighs and runs a hand through his sand-colored hair. "It's none of my business anyway. And I get it - I mean, he's a doctor, right? Every girl wants a doctor." The jealous tinge has creeped back in.

While I always knew Mike kind of liked me, I never realized he harbored such bitter feelings over Edward. Nonetheless, it doesn't change anything. And it's not like Mike ever took the initiative to ask me out himself. Not that it would have done him any good.

"Well, I can assure you that if I _was_ seeing Ed—Dr. Cullen, it wouldn't be because he's a doctor," I say. On the contrary, it's one of the many reasons I didn't want to date him. Mike's eyes narrow slightly at my near use of Edward's first name, but he doesn't say anything else as I grab the door handle and let myself inside. "I gotta go, Mike. I'm probably already late."

He nods once, his voice still sullen. "See ya."

By the time I reach my floor, I'm four minutes late clocking in. No matter, because at two o'clock this afternoon Edward will get here, and if I'm lucky we'll have at least five spare minutes to see each other.

It's kind of hard to believe that my entire day has suddenly begun revolving around this possible five minutes.

He doesn't show up until almost four o'clock, sans lab coat, his hair in a perfect disarray. His toned arms look delicious in his navy scrubs, and his ass looks like it was sculpted from the Greek god of perfection, whoever that is. Not that I was staring at it or anything. He smiles when he sees me and I try not to look too excited.

"Hey," I say, forcing a casual tone. The nurses station is crowded, the phone is ringing off the hook, and all I want is five minutes.

"Hey," he responds, his smile widening.

Jessica is taking a call on another line. "Call pick-up!" she screeches to everyone, and I groan before picking up the receiver. It's someone wanting to speak to another nurse who isn't around, and after I call the nurse and discover their phone is turned off, I spend the next five minutes paging them over the intercom and praying they'll answer quickly. They don't, of course. The seduction gods are against me today. Not that I have time to actually seduce Edward or anything, even though I have at least ten condoms in my purse, but it's still a nice fantasy to entertain. I have high hopes for at least a tiny smooch before he leaves.

He goes to see a patient while I'm tracking down my coworker, and then another patient calls to request pain medication. I medicate the patient before I'm called away to do something else, and eventually I spot Edward disappearing inside the dictation room. I follow him inside as soon as I'm able and shut the door behind me. He's sitting at the computer, a chart open in front of him, the phone to his ear as he dictates into the receiver.

He glances at me as I enter, acknowledging my presence. There's a small, rolling stool tucked under the desk, and I pull it out and sit down behind him, slightly to his left.

"WBC's are 16.2, H and H is 8.9 and 27.2, potassium is 3.9-"

He's simply too delectable to resist. Reaching forward, I lightly graze the hem of his scrub top with my fingers, hesitating only a brief moment before slipping them beneath the cloth and meeting the smooth, soft skin of his lower back.

He pauses abruptly, then quickly clears his throat and begins talking again.

"She, uhh…still has fine crackles in her right lower lobe, still has some pitting edema in her lower extremities…"

I rake my nails across his skin, trailing higher, caressing his spine. His shirt rises as I journey north and I get a glorious view of his clear, flawless skin.

His voice is faltering again. "Umm..she has…" He clears his throat once more and runs a hand through his hair. "Still complains of a cough, nonproductive. Still receiving Levaquin 500mg IV daily for her pneumonia, will repeat chest x-ray in the morning…"

Now I trail my nails back down, just barely scratching the surface of his skin. He turns suddenly and grabs my hand, his eyes dark and heated as he clasps it tightly in his own and rests them in his lap.

He hastily fumbles through the rest of his dictation, then slams the phone down and turns to me.

"_You_," he begins accusingly, "are going to be the death of me." He grabs my hips and pulls me closer, my stool rolling noisily across the linoleum floor, before leaning forward and roughly capturing my lips with his own. I'm only surprised for a moment, and then I'm responding eagerly, my tongue quickly slipping into his mouth while my hands run over his shoulders and twist into his hair. He groans before abruptly pulling away.

"No chance that door locks, is there?" he asks with a strained smile, glancing over my shoulder at the closed door once.

"No, but you have to put a code in to get inside, so that should give us at least a two second warning if someone's trying to enter."

"That works for me." His lips are on mine again, but our glorious reunion is made too brief when we hear the unmistakable noise of someone pounding buttons on the key pad. We quickly rip away from each other and he turns to the chart in front of him while I – well, I sit there wishing I would have thought to bring my notes or something with me. I hastily push my stool away from him just as the door is shoved open. Jessica pushes through with an audible huff, her icy blue eyes zeroing in on us immediately.

"Hey Edward," she greets him cheerfully. Her face is a stark contrast to her light voice. Lips twisted, eyes narrowed, she ignores me completely and walks to the cabinet directly across from the door, retrieving a stack of papers bound in plastic wrap.

I avert my face, fearful she'll see my red lips, a wayward lock of hair, the extreme lust in my eyes – a million different things that could give me away. Edward doesn't even turn around as he quietly clears his throat and says, "Hey, Jessica." He flips through the chart and pretends to be hard at work.

"Bella," she says, "412 just called and said they need to be cleaned up."

"Where's the tech?" I ask, immediately suspicious. She shrugs uncaringly as she leaves the room.

"On break, I guess."

The door slams shut behind her. I try not to scowl, although I'm fully aware of what she's doing. My indifference must be lacking, because Edward's hand is on my face again, forcing me to look at him.

"Hey," he murmurs. "What's wrong?"

I immediately soften at his touch. "Nothing."

"Does she know about us?" he asks warily.

"No. I mean, I didn't tell her. Did you tell anyone?"

"No one that works here."

"I told Alice," I confess. "But I made her swear not to tell anyone. I didn't know if you wanted anyone to know…"

"I don't care if people know," he informs me. "Do you care?"

"No, I don't care."

"Good. I kind of like people knowing…" He plays with a lock of my hair, and I melt.

"I miss you," I murmur. He leans towards me and kisses my lips softly, then my chin.

"I miss you too."

"Will you come over when you get off work?"

Both eyebrows raise in question. "It'll be late."

"I don't care. I miss you," I repeat, my voice pleading.

Another kiss, this time on my jaw. Then my neck. Each one more promising than the last.

"Then I'll be there."

-x-x-

One of Alice's patients codes right before shift change. That's when every awful thing imaginable always happens.

She calls a rapid response initially, but the patient deteriorates and loses his pulse before everyone arrives. Alice hovers over him with her tiny body, throwing her entire weight into chest compressions while Kate and I steer the crash cart into the room. We slide the backboard under his back while Mike provides manual breaths with an ambu bag. Defibrillator pads are thrown on his chest and back, and Edward is there seconds later to receive a hasty update from Alice.

"His blood pressure started dropping and I gave him a 500 saline bolus, but then he started agonal gasping and I couldn't find a pulse…"

Edward gives instructions, taking charge. Epinephrine and atrophine are given, then again; Edward intubates the patient, Aro consoles a desolate wife in the hallway. It's chaotic, with too many people crammed into a too small room.

The patient is eventually brought back, heart rate in the one-forties, and we rush him to the intensive care unit. I help push the bed, Alice and Kate by my side, while Edward continues manually ventilating through the endotracheal tube.

Edward and I make eye contact, but nothing more.

Strictly professional.

Admittedly, I had worried about us working together. Would it be awkward? Strange? But it was none of those things. In those few precarious moments, with another man's life on the line, our new status didn't come to mind. He was just another doctor and I was just another nurse, both of us working in tandem to keep a man from dying.

The unit nurses are waiting for us when we arrive. Alice begins giving one of them a report while they hook the patient to a heart monitor and ventilator. I help them silently, listening to their conversation.

"Do you have a recent blood sugar?" the unit nurse asks Alice.

"No…" Alice's voice trails. "I didn't have time. But it was checked this afternoon on his labs and it was stable. He's not a diabetic," she states.

"Well it's part of the protocol to check it during the code," the nurse exclaims rudely. Like the protocol is all that matters. Not that man's life. Just the protocol.

I have every intention of staying quiet. Minding my business. But when Alice tries to say something and the nurse brusquely cuts her off, words spew out of my mouth without permission. "Christ, there's no reason to be rude. She was worried about other things, like his _breathing_, so if you want a freakin' blood sugar then you can get it now."

Several eyes turn towards me, Edward's included. Alice is biting her lip to hold back a smile. The unit nurse looks furious.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is this _your_ patient?" she asks sharply.

"I treat every patient like my own while I'm working," I reply, my voice insultingly sweet. I wouldn't normally act so condescending, but some things just really grate on my nerves. Unnecessary rudeness included. We're coworkers, not her subordinates. I'd take more crap from doctors than I would from her.

She scowls and turns her attention towards the patient, ignoring me, and I have to hide a smug smile.

I finish up and wait at the ICU nurses station for Alice. Edward is standing nearby at the counter, writing in the patient's chart, awaiting a call back from the patient's regular doctor. I give him space while he's working, figuring this is what a normal nurse would do when a normal doctor is busy.

But he eventually closes the chart and hands it off to the secretary before approaching me. He leans in close and says, "You'll never hesitate to call anyone out, huh?"

For a moment, I'm worried, afraid he's going to be mad. I start second-guessing and berating myself while wishing I would have just kept my trap shut. It seems to get me in trouble or make me look foolish more often than not. But I look up to discover a small smile on his lips, his eyes dancing in mirth.

Any worry evaporates. Maybe I should be ashamed of my behavior - for stooping to that nurse's level - but I'm suddenly too relieved to care.

"It wouldn't hurt to let people fight their own battles, you know," he goes on. "I hear that builds character."

I bite my lip, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed.

"Bella!" Alice suddenly booms from behind me, interrupting us. "Oh my God, I love you. That was classic. You're definitely my favorite mouthy friend right now. Emmett would be so proud." She pauses to look at Edward and narrows her eyes suspiciously, already pulling me away. "Nu uh. You keep away from her, _Dr. Cullen_. We have a lot of work to do if we ever want to go home tonight."

I don't struggle as she drags me out of the nurses station. Finishing my work, going home, and meeting Edward sounds like the best plan I've had in years. I offer a pathetic wave before I'm pulled out of sight, and he's smiling as he watches me stumble away.

-x-x-

I sit on the couch watching TV so that I can stay awake. Edward called thirty minutes prior to let me know he had a few more patients to see before he could leave, but he promised he was still coming over. I spend a good bit of time thinking about him during the code – about how sexy it was when he took charge – and that helps pass the time.

But I must fall asleep, because the next thing I know a hard body is pressing against mine, trapping me against the back of the couch. I groan and stir against him, trying to free my trapped arm. He murmurs softly and plants sweet kisses on my face while his hand brushes my hair away.

I finally sigh and rest against him.

"What time is it?" I ask groggily. I bury my nose in his neck and inhale deeply, ignoring the sharp smell of hospital that still lingers on his skin.

"Almost midnight," he answers softly. He's still stroking my hair; I run my hand across his back, slipping it beneath his boxers and grabbing onto his bare bottom. I may or may not have a slight obsession.

"We can go to my bed," I offer, fighting back a yawn.

"Mmm." His eyes are closed, his movements becoming heavy. He makes no effort to take me up on the offer, and for a moment I think he's already fallen asleep.

"Edward?" I whisper.

His eyebrows raise slightly in his perceived slumber. "Hmm?"

"Let's go to bed. This might feel comfortable now, but trust me, this is a used couch. It won't be good to you."

"No, but you'll be good to me." His arms tighten around me, pulling me closer.

"I'm serious, Edward," I say, wiggling against him. "Let's go to bed. It's just a short little walk down the hall…" My voice trails temptingly and Edward suddenly rolls over on top of me, pinning me against the cushions. I let out a sharp gust of hair at the sudden movement. His body is hard and hot, his air damp—I'm just now noticing the patter of rain against the windows—and he's wearing only his boxers and a t-shirt.

Delicious.

He kisses me softly, then again, and again, applying just a little more force each time. His voice is husky when he speaks. "What were you saying?"

"I have no idea," I reply honestly. What _had_ I been saying? He's literally kissed me senseless, and sleep is the furthest thing from my mind.

Encouraged, he moves to my neck, nipping softly at the flesh while his hands creep beneath my shirt. My entire body erupts in goosebumps and I wrap my arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly against me.

He kisses my lips one last time and pulls away. Standing, he offers me his hand. "Coming?" he asks.

I let him pull me to my feet and we make our way to my bedroom, still kissing, still touching, our actions less frenzied but just as purposeful as the other night. In my bed, he molds my back against his chest, his groin against my bottom, and his lips find purchase on my neck and shoulder. He tugs the collar of my shirt down, granting him a larger area to taste and explore.

I twist my neck, and as soon as my lips are in his sight he claims them. I press my body back against his and reach behind me, wrapping my hand through his silky hair. My lips are never far from his as I twist in his arms, and he tightens his hold around me, pulling me hard against his chest.

"You feel so good," he whispers, running his hands over my body. "I thought about you all day. About getting you alone again and having you all to myself."

His words send a welcome chill down my spine. I grab his hand, guiding it to the apex between my thighs. "Now you have me," I say, and his fingers slip beneath my pajamas and between my soaked folds. He strokes me slowly and I moan, my need for this man surpassing even my basic need to breathe.

"You like that?" he asks, as if the embarrassing sounds I'm producing aren't confirmation enough. I bite my lip and nod, then eagerly begin pushing his boxers down his hips. He rolls over on top of me again before helping me remove them the rest of the way, allowing his erection to spring free, and I immediately wrap my hand around his shaft and stroke him slowly.

His face is in my neck. "So good," he murmurs against my skin, and I hum my agreement before tugging at his shirt, causing it to rise against his back. He pulls it off and throws it aside, then grabs my shorts, slowly dragging them down my thighs. I lift my hips so that they can be removed and the garment is discarded on the floor, my shirt following shortly afterwards.

Edward's hard body covers mine, his lips on my neck. He grabs my chin with his hand and turns my face away, exposing more of my skin, more for him to kiss and lightly nip. I run my hands over his chest, shoulders. Down his body and over his bottom. The rain has picked up and now pounds harshly against the window, while the moonlight shines through the sodden glass and creates twisted streaks across Edward's smooth skin. I've never seen him more beautiful.

His lips trail down my chest, where he pulls a hard nipple into his mouth. I gasp and press myself into him while my fingers tangle through his hair. The same attention is paid to the other breast, and then his lips are on mine again, forceful and passionate.

I swing one arm out to my side, fumbling blindly along my nightstand until I find the drawer and can pull it open. Edward won't stop kissing me long enough for me to actually see what I'm doing, but I'm not complaining. His hand is between my thighs again, stroking my folds, one finger slipping through the entrance, and it's all I can do to keep from screaming.

I finally feel a foil packet, and I snatch it out of the drawer. Unfortunately, it's still attached to several other foil packets that came in my mega condom box, so I pull out a long strand of ten or so condoms all attached together. I smack Edward in the face with them accidentally, but he's preoccupied and barely flinches.

I consider apologizing for condom-whipping him, but his fingers are still doing delicious things to my insides…and then he pulls them out, a smile on his face.

"I see someone's prepared," he says coyly. He takes the condoms from my hand and rips off one packet, throwing the rest on the floor.

"_Someone_ has to be prepared," I reply, nearly panting with desire at this point. He's moving too damn slow – I'll combust if I don't have him inside me soon. "In fact, you'd do well to learn a thing or—" His mouth presses firmly against mine, silencing me, while his fingers find my clit again. He rubs small, sensual circles with his thumb, causing my hips to buck off the bed. I whine against his mouth and tug his hair with one hand, my other raking across the back of his neck.

"God, Bella," he groans. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

"Show me," I pant.

He rips the wrapper in his hand and slips the condom on, and I can't help but reach forward and smooth my hand over thin rubber covering his cock. Once. Twice. Three times, and Edward groans, pulling my hand away and pinning it safely above my head.

He kisses away my protests and aligns himself at my entrance with his free hand. I spread my legs wide, anxious to take him, to feel him. He pushes just the tip inside before kissing my face, his other hand trailing down my arm and into my hair.

"Is this what you want?" he asks, goading me. Luckily for him, I'm pretty much convinced this is the sort of agony you experience right before expiring from sexual frustration. I'm not above begging right now.

"Fuck yes, Edward. _Please_."

I must sound appropriately pathetic, because he pushes into me suddenly, stretching me from all sides. I grasp onto his shoulders and inhale sharply at the sudden sensation.

Fucking _fantastic_.

He stills inside of me for a second and I spread my legs wider, wanting to take in every delicious inch.

He moves his hips slowly. "Is this okay?" he asks softly.

"Yeah," I sigh. With each thrust he pulls out a little further, pushing into me just a little harder. I wrap my legs around his waist and throw my head back.

"Yeah?"

"Fuck yeah."

"God, you feel fucking incredible." I love it when he swears. I wrap my fingers through his hair while he grabs my bottom, hitching my hips up and pushing himself deeper inside. "I thought about this today," he pants into my shoulder. "About fucking you in the dictation room."

_Oh, sweet Jesus._

Lightening rips across the sky, illuminating my bedroom for a few brief seconds. A peal of loud thunder follows. Edward grabs my chin between his fingers and kisses me hard, his hips still thrusting against me at a hot, steady pace.

Why wasn't I doing this a long time ago? This is so much better than the monarch. And if I hadn't bought so many damn condoms it would probably be cheaper too.

My hands claw through his hair, down his back, feeling the hard muscles beneath smooth skin. I spread them over his bottom, cupping each cheek, and help guide his hips against me. I kiss and bite his neck lightly, and Edward returns the favor, his hands traveling over my breasts and sides and hips.

This…_desire_…I feel for Edward is not like what I knew with Alec. It's stronger, more intense. An almost overwhelming rush of emotions floods through me as he whispers how much he missed me in my ear.

I can tell when he's getting close because he stops thrusting and buries his face in my neck, breathing heavily. He's probably thinking about Grandma or counting backwards, whatever crazy things guys do to last longer. I rub his head with my hand, smoothing back his damp hair, then slip it between us, stroking my clit as he begins thrusting inside of me again.

He can tell when I'm getting close, as well, because I lift my hips to meet his, panting laboriously. He sits back on his knees suddenly, pulling me up with him. I straddle his lap and sink down onto him again and again while using his shoulders for support. One of his hands is on my bottom, helping guide my movements. His other hand rolls my nipple between his fingers while his mouth sucks and kisses my other breast. Then he slips his hand to where we're joined, rubbing my clit, and I'm brought to the brink all over again.

He kisses me passionately while I cum, and then he's following just moments later, his arms circling my waist and holding me tightly to him as his hips slam up and against me a few final times.

We rest against each other for a moment while we catch our breaths. My fingers rake through his wet hair again, and then he's easing me backwards, lowering me onto the bed and covering me with his body. We kiss for several long moments before he pulls out and disposes of the condom.

He rejoins me in the bed and pulls me against his chest, kissing my face again and again. I giggle as his lips find mine, then quiet as our kiss deepens and intensifies.

I'm going to be so tired tomorrow, but sleep seems like such an insignificant thing right now. I'd go without it every night just to feel his lips on mine. Even for a kiss that lasts five seconds.

"You're fucking incredible, Bella," he whispers against my neck, and I feel myself falling just a little harder. Every kiss, every word. Every touch.

I just hope he'll always be here to catch me.

* * *

References:

**WBC's** – white blood cells, present in the blood. A high level indicates an infection somewhere.

**Potassium** – a lab value. A too high or too low value can kill you, but it's usually only an issue if you have kidney problems.

**H and H** – hemoglobin and hematocrit. Basically, a person's blood count.

**Pitting edema** – swelling in which you can press down on a bony surface (i.e, a patient's ankle) and it leaves a finger imprint in their skin

**Crackles in the lobe** – this is referring to the patient's breath sounds. Your lungs have different lobes, and moisture or infection can create a "rice crispy" sound when they breathe, though it can only be heard through a stethoscope.

**Levaquin - **an antibiotic

**Agonal gasping** – abnormal breathing, usually only 2 or 3 breaths a minute (as compared to the normal 12-20), usually gasping and labored. Can happen after a patient's heart stops beating, and normally leads to death unless something is quickly done.

**Ambu bag** – a plastic bag with a mask attached. The mask is placed over the patient's mouth and nose and the bag is pumped to provide rescue breathes. This takes the place of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

**Epinephrine and atrophine** – drugs that increase heart rate

**Defibrillator pads** – these are two large sticker pads that are placed on the patient's chest and back, usually during a code blue. They get the patient's heart rhythm, and can be used to shock the patient if it's indicated. However, a patient has to be in a specific heart rhythm or else shocking them wouldn't do any good.

If I missed anything, feel free to ask me about it via PM or review.

-x-x-

Special thanks to passionmama and ms-ambrosia, as always. You guys should actually send passionmama roses or something, because I had planned to cockblock you all for one more chapter until she talked me out of it. Merciful, she is.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! And a special thank you to Mean Mrs. Mustard for rec'ing Doctor's Orders on the P.I.C's Fanfic Corner. Much love for the pimpage. Next chapter hopefully by two weeks.

I'm **mybluesky1 **on twitter for teasers and updates.

xoxo


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

-x-x-x-x-

**Chapter 14 - Things Definitely Just Got Worse**

Edward is working a lot, unfortunately, and it's always that awkward afternoon shift. My only consolation is that he told me he'll be off six days in a row next week. That's six full days of Fire and Ice wrapped goodness, and I literally can't wait for them to get here.

I see him at the hospital occasionally. One day, I get floated to the ER, and it turns out he spends a lot more time there than he does on my floor. Duty calls, I suppose. But what's annoying is how all the female nurses blatantly flirt with him there.

"Dr. Cullen, I have everything you need for the central line," a young nurse says to him. A simple statement, no doubt, but her voice is too damn suggestive for my liking. "Just let me know when you're ready." She bites her lip and smiles before sauntering away.

_Oh, puke in my mouth. _

I don't say anything to him about the wenches—at least not while we're working—because in his defense, he doesn't really flirt back, and I was the one who warmed his bed last night. He also brought me coffee from the doctor's lounge when he got here, so how pissed can I really be? Two nurses stared at me when he gave me the coffee, but I made it a point to ignore them. I don't mind Emmett and Alice knowing about us, nor do I dislike rubbing my new relationship in Jessica's face—that's actually a lot of fun—but I don't really care to discuss my personal life with complete strangers. Edward seems to feel the same way. While we talk, occasionally flirt, and sneak peeks at each other often, we're otherwise professional at work. There's no raging sex sessions on a stretcher in the back of the ER, despite my frequent, inappropriate fantasies.

No, we save that for the on-call room.

On an unusually slow night, after shift change, I bump into Edward in the hallway as I'm getting ready to leave. He's still scheduled to work for another few hours, and despite the tired, haggard lines beneath his eyes, he still looks pleased to have caught me.

"Are you going home?" he asks.

"Yeah, I'll probably stop and grab something to eat first. Did you, uh…want me to bring you anything?" I ask hopefully. I've become pathetic, an absolute loser who can't stop thinking about a guy, who wants him to want her to bring him food so that she can see him another whole five minutes.

"No thanks, I'll probably just grab something in the cafeteria," he says dismissively. A nurse walks by but doesn't pay us any attention. He's quiet until she passes, then he leans in close, his voice lowered. "Do you…would you mind, um, staying for a few more minutes?"

I'm intrigued, and pathetically hopeful, of course. "No, why?"

"You'll see. Just follow me."

We take the elevator to the eighth floor, then get off and take the stairs. When we're by ourselves in the stairwell, I say, "Do you fancy smancy doctors have some kind of secret lair up here?"

"Something like that," he replies, smirking. We reach the top floor – the floor that's not available via the elevator – and low and behold, there's another door with a stupid badge-swiping system to keep us underprivileged nurses out. But I'm not jealous or anything.

When we reach the door, Edward turns around and kisses me right there in the stairwell. This was probably a bad idea, because I miss him and had already fallen asleep when he got home last night. Wrapping my hand around his neck, I cling to him, returning his affection eagerly. He pulls away before I can rip all his clothes off, but he kisses me two more times, his hands on either side of my face, and I can tell he doesn't want to stop either.

He turns just enough to swipe his badge, then pushes the door open and allows me to enter, his hand on the small of my back.

I walk straight into some kind of apartment. Well, not technically an apartment. It's all one giant room, and there are two bunk beds enclosed by curtains, making a total of four places to sleep, and they're both aligned on one side of the wall. There's a sitting area with a couch and a decent sized TV mounted onto the wall on my left. To my right is a small kitchen with a refrigerator, sink, microwave, coffee maker, and dishwasher, and to the far left is a closed door which I presume is the bathroom.

It's not anything I ever would have imagined existed on the top floor of the hospital.

I want to ask Edward what the hell this place is about, or at least make fun of him for the simple coffee maker they have up here, but his lips are on mine before I can form the words. I'm pushed backwards until I hit the closed door, his kisses hot and heavy and _oh _so delicious.

"I fucking missed you," he breathes against me, his hands trailing fire over my body. I've learned to expect a good time whenever Dr. Cullen curses. My purse is thrown on the floor and forgotten.

"I missed you too," I pant into his mouth. "Is anybody going to come up here?" I stick my hand in his scrub pants as I say this, wrapping my fingers around his already hardening shaft. I've fantasized about him in his scrubs way too often, and the thought of it coming true right now gives me thrills.

He shakes his head. "No, no one usually comes here except hospitalists, and I'm the only one here right now."

That just means we have to hurry before he's paged. The thought of knowing we could be interrupted any second actually makes it a little more exciting.

I grab the stethoscope that's hanging on either side of his neck and use it to pull him to me, our lips forceful as they're pressed together. He picks me up and carries me over to one of the bunk beds, crouching down to place me in the bottom bunk. I kick my shoes off and scoot myself back, lifting my hips to remove my scrub pants as I go. Edward pulls them off, then my panties, his stethoscope, and then finally he pushes his own pants down just far enough to make his cock spring free. He strokes my entrance with two of his long fingers, ensuring that I'm ready.

"Wait!" I exclaim. "We need a condom."

"Fuck!" He hastily pulls his pants back up and looks towards the kitchen, and I can't help but wonder what the hell he's thinking. Do they keep a secret condom stash in the utensil drawer? Is this the secret room of doctor sex, and has Emmett had sex right where I'm sitting? Should we have tied a sock to the doorknob?

When he starts in that direction, I say, "No! My purse!"

That's right - Bella Swan is now always prepared.

He gets a condom from my purse, which is across the room on the floor, and I stare shamelessly at the bulge in his scrub pants the entire time. If only sick patients had _this _to look forward to. I imagine they'd stay sick constantly. At least, I would.

He catches my eye and smirks.

"See something you like, Bella?" Coming back to the bunk bed, he lowers his body over mine, catching my lips for another searing kiss. I wrap my arms around his back and pull so that our bodies are flushed together, reveling in the hardness of his cock pressed against my stomach. He pulls away just far enough to pull his pants down and slip the condom on, and then he's covering me again, his lips on my neck as he pushes deep inside of me.

"God, you feel so good," he groans.

"So fucking good," I breathe in agreement.

"I can't wait to have you all to myself next week. Whenever I want you, all day long."

_Christ_, I don't know if I'll survive until then. Words can't adequately describe the sense of relief I feel when we're connected. Like easing a bad ache, or searching the entire day for something precious and then finding it again. He bites my shoulder lightly as he pulls out and pushes back inside, then again, and again, his groans of pleasure muffled against my skin. I twist my fingers through his hair, one hand on his bottom, my legs wrapped securely around his waist. We groan in unison as he shifts my body and slides even deeper inside.

The on-call room is officially my favorite place in the hospital.

-x-x-

I'm walking downtown with Alice when I spot Mr. Lowery crowding a hotdog stand.

I haven't seen him since he was discharged, which means he's stayed out the hospital for a little while. But I'm pretty sure hotdogs aren't appropriate for his diet. I'm even more certain that he's already aware of this.

Alice is swinging her shopping bag at her side while she talks. I nudge her mid-sentence and say, "Isn't that Mr. Lowery?"

She follows my line of vision and her eyes light up. "It is! _Mr. Lowery_!" she shouts.

Nearly every set of eyes within hearing distance turns to stare at us, including Mr. Lowery's. He smiles and waves us over. It's not until we get closer that I notice a tiny little girl clinging to his pants, her knuckles turning white with the intensity of her grip. She's short and pale with curly red hair and bright green, timid eyes.

"Hey girls!" Mr. Lowery greets us. "What are you two up to today? Staying out of trouble?"

Alice ignores him and crouches down in front of the little girl, smiling widely. "Who is this, Mr. Lowery? Oh my gosh, she's adorable!"

"This is my granddaughter, Carla! She's hanging out with old gramps today."

"Hey Carla! I'm Alice." Alice tries to coax her into conversation, but Carla cowers shyly behind Mr. Lowery's legs. Mr. Lowery turns to me.

"So how have you been, Bella?"

"I've been great. How have you been? You getting a hotdog?" I ask slyly.

He eyes me suspiciously, knowing my game. "No, no. You know I'm not allowed to eat this stuff! It's for Carla."

I just smile at being caught.

"How's Edward?" he goes on. He's next in line for food, and he orders quickly. Just a plain hotdog for Carla.

"Now what makes you think I know how Edward is?" I ask, my voice mock-scolding. Alice rolls her eyes from her position near the ground.

"Please, Bella," she remarks. "It's pretty bad when your patients can see it."

"Of course I saw it," Mr. Lowery says as he takes his newly purchased hotdog. He unwraps it from the foil and hands it to Carla, who takes it eagerly. "So was I right or was I right?" His eyes are practically twinkling.

"You were right," Alice pipes up again before I can respond. "Those two can't keep their hands off each other."

"Alice!" I whine.

"What? It's true."

"I figured as much," says Mr. Lowery. "So how's he doing? He planning on starting his own practice yet?"

"Not that I know of."

"Well you're a pretty girl, Bella. I'm sure you can talk him into it."

I chuckle. "I'll do my best."

"Good. I'll be his first patient when it happens. Just think – you can work for him and be his nurse!"

"I hear it's not good to date your boss."

"Yeah, but just think of all the benefits you'll get," he says with a wink, and Alice's eyes meet mine as we both fight back a laugh.

Carla begins tugging on his pants, and he slowly and awkwardly crouches down to her level so she can whisper in his ear. When she's finished he stands again and says, "She has to use the powder room. If you ladies will excuse me, I'm gonna ask this nice restaurant owner across the street if he'd mind. It was nice seeing you both!"

"You too. Take care of yourself," Alice and I reply.

We watch them as they walk away, both of us still smiling, and then we slowly turn and continue making our way down the street.

-x-x-

The OBGYN office is the most amazing thing I've ever seen.

It's even incredible on the outside – sleek and polished, perfectly landscaped, plenty of parking. The flowers on the bushes are white and pop against the silver exterior. The glass doors are pristinely clean. When I enter, the first thing I see is an elegant waterfall that takes up an entire wall in the waiting room. It trickles and calms and soothes, and all the patients who are waiting have little cups of something steaming in their hands and they look _happy_.

I'm a little mesmerized, to say the least. My OBGYN office in Florida was nothing like this. It was drab, with pale beige walls that needed to be repainted and offered no warmth. These walls are decorated with vines and flowers, elaborately done with a careful eye from a talented artist.

I feel at ease, like I'm going to fancy spa and not getting ready to have my hoohah stretched open and examined. The girl behind the counter smiles pleasantly when I approach.

"Who are you here to see?" she asks professionally.

"Um, Dr. Cooper. I'm Bella Swan."

"Oh." A tiny frown forms as she clicks away at her computer. Then she says, "We tried to call you this morning but didn't get an answer, so we left a message. Dr. Cooper had a family emergency and had to leave suddenly. He won't be in for the rest of the day."

"Oh." My face falls. Where the hell is my phone? I begin digging in my purse, but there's so much crap in there that I'll never find it without pulling out half its contents, and this doesn't really seem like the type of place to be exposing my bag full of fifty thousand old receipts and gum wrappers.

Damn, no birth control today. The news is almost sad enough to make me cry.

The girl looks sympathetic. "Why don't you have a seat and go ahead and fill out your forms, Miss Swan. I'll see what we can do for you while you're here. Would you like some coffee or hot tea? We have green tea, chamomile, or Earl Grey."

I look at her, blinking dumbly. "Hot tea?"

"Yes ma'am. We also have honey sticks if you like them a little sweet."

_Holy crap! _Am I in some kind of alternate universe? I've never met Edward's mother, but I'm pretty sure she could try to kill me in my sleep and I'd still love her. This office is fulfilling the other half of my hoohah's dreams; the first half being meeting Edward's peen, of course.

"Umm…coffee?" I respond.

"Cream and sugar?"

"Yes, please."

"We have French vanilla, hazelnut, and plain."

Must control my excitement…

"French vanilla."

"Great. Have a seat and I'll have someone bring you a cup."

Yes, I've definitely died and gone to OBGYN heaven. Dear sweet Lord. I take the forms and have a seat, not minding in the slightest that Dr. Cooper isn't here. I begin filling out all the paperwork and a different female brings me a steaming cup similar to what everyone else is holding. Not surprisingly, the coffee is delicious.

I don't think I've ever looked forward to going to the doctor – and most certainly not the OBGYN. But a miracle may occur today. This place could change that.

I return my forms when I finish. The secretary takes them and says, "Dr. Masen is seeing a few of Dr. Cooper's patients for him today. She said she could squeeze in one more if you'd like to see her."

"Dr. Masen?" I inquire curiously. As long as it isn't Dr. Cullen I should be safe.

"Oh yes. She's one of the best in Seattle, so you'd have nothing to worry about. She's very good at what she does."

"Okay, I guess that would be fine."

"Great, I'll let her know you're here. She actually wasn't taking new patients right now, so you may have gotten very lucky." She winks, putting me completely at ease. "Would you like some more coffee?"

"That would be wonderful, thank you."

The wait is surprisingly short when compared to other doctor's offices, not to mention completely enjoyable thanks to my delicious coffee and the mesmerizing waterfall. A nurse calls me back and gets my weight and vital signs, and then leads me to the exam room. Instead of undressing and wrapping myself in scratchy paper, they have silk linen that feels heavenly against my skin. The exam room walls are painted in a rosy pink with candles – candles! – on a shelf near the changing room, and the ceiling is painted in an elaborate fading sunset. Something to stare at while we're on our back with our legs spread, I suppose. There's a bowl of chocolate mints on a stand near the head of the examination table and a speaker in the corner of the ceiling that's playing soothing music with sounds of trickling water, not unlike the sounds produced by the waterfall in the waiting room.

I may just shit a brick before this is over. I could live here. In fact, this place is nicer than the spa I last went to in Florida. The one my mother raved on and on about. _Oh look Bella, they give you sparkling water!_

Water? Pfffttt.

There's a knock on the door and then a slender, graceful female doctor enters. She's attractive, with dark hair and clear skin, a mouth full of pearly white teeth that brighten her entire face when she smiles. She's also unhurried and seemingly pleased to see me.

She puts out a hand to shake mine. "Hi, Bella. I'm Dr. Masen, how are you?"

"I'm great, thank you," I pleasantly reply. This may turn out better than I thought. I wonder why Alice didn't recommend her to me instead of Dr. Cooper. Then I remember the secretary telling me she wasn't taking new patients and figure this must be why.

"I'm sorry you didn't receive your phone call this morning. I don't want you to be inconvenienced when you come to see us," Dr. Masen goes on. She pulls up a stool and opens my little paper chart.

"No, it's fine," I say, waving a hand dismissively.

"Are you just here for your annual exam?"

"Yes. Well, that and I wanted to begin birth control."

"Will this be your first time on birth control?"

"No, I just ran out about two months or so ago. I just moved here so I haven't had a lot of time to get it refilled."

"Have you had unprotected sex since then?"

"No ma'am."

"Are you currently sexually active?"

"Yes."

"Do you have more than one partner?"

"No."

"When was the last time you had sex?"

"Umm…two days ago," I reply, remembering the night I went to Edward's house straight after work. He worked the morning shift so he got off a few hours before me. We had planned on going out to dinner, but one innocent kiss given in greeting had rapidly evolved to more, and we ended up having sex right there on the kitchen table. And then again in his shower.

Yeah, eating is underrated anyway.

"Have you ever had an abnormal PAP smear?" Dr. Mason goes on.

"No."

"When was your last exam?"

"About a year ago."

"What kind of birth control were you on?"

"Pills."

She asks me if I took them appropriately, and then tells me the alternatives to the pill that they offer such as the ring and the shot. When that's taken care of, she asks me to lie back on the table while she sets up for the exam. She turns on a brighter light so that she can see and instructs me to place my feet in the stirrups.

Just as I suspected, the sunset on the ceiling is very soothing.

She says, "Alright, you're gonna feel a little bit of pressure," and then begins the exam. She's quiet for a few seconds while she works, and then she begins talking again.

"So are you and the guy you're seeing serious?"

Strangely, the question is completely conversational. Like something I would talk about with a girlfriend.

"Yeah…well it's all still kind of new," I confess.

"You like him, though?"

"Yes, I like him a lot," I gush pathetically.

I can practically hear the smile in her voice. "Did you meet him after moving here? Or did he move with you?"

"No, I met him here."

"It must be exciting," she says. "My husband and I have been together over thirty years. But I can still remember how I felt when we first started dating."

"You're lucky to have such a lasting marriage."

"Yes, I am. What's your special man like?"

"Oh, well he's, uh...he's really smart, sweet, funny. Charming. He's very patient and understanding. He has the most gorgeous green eyes I've ever seen." I almost say he's a doctor, but think better of it. I don't want it to seem like I'm bragging about snagging someone with his profession. Mike has made me rethink the way our relationship might appear to others.

"Sounds kind of perfect," she observes happily. "Where do you work, Bella?"

"At Harborview. I'm a nurse."

"Oh, really?" The interest in her voice is palpable. "That's where my husband works, actually. My son, too."

Something starts clicking in my mind. Nagging. Something isn't right, and my anxiety is already starting to build. I try to look at her, _really _look at her, to see if I can find traces of Edward in her features, but she's obscured by the sheet.

"Really?" I force my voice to remain casual. "That's cool. Are they doctors too?"

"Yes, both of them are. I'm sure you've met my son, Edward Cullen. He's a hospitalist there, so if you haven't met him yet, I'm sure you will eventually. What floor do you work on?"

_Christ_. I can't believe this. Alice said her name was Dr. Cullen. She introduced herself as Dr. Masen. Jesus Christ almighty, what's happening?

I take deep breaths, trying to listen to the trickling water on the CD. It won't do for me to have a panic attack while she's staring at my hoohah. I need to calm down. Deep breaths. Happy place. Stare at the painted sunset and go to your happy place, Bella.

"Are you alright, Bella?" Dr. Masen suddenly asks. "I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"No, no, I'm fine. I umm…I work on the fourth floor," I croak out. "Med-surg. We get a little of everything. A lot of dialysis patients."

"Have you met Edward, then? Dr. Cullen? My husband is a surgeon, so I doubt you'd see him as much as you see Edward."

"I've heard of him. Your husband, I mean," I tell her. "He occasionally does graft declots. But Dr. Richards seems to do most of them. It's a big hospital, though. And yes, I've uh…I've met your son. Dr. Cullen," I ramble awkwardly.

Dear God. I don't even know how I'm still talking. How I haven't passed out from suppressing this overwhelming urge to hyperventilate.

"Yes, it is a big hospital," she agrees. "I feel like they work poor Edward to death sometimes. I wish he would take some time for himself, maybe try to meet his Mrs. Perfect," she says enviously. "He's always been real particular about who he dates, and then he feels all the pressure from his father."

I suddenly feel like I'm spying on Edward somehow. Like I shouldn't be hearing this. Not knowing what to say, I simply remain silent, and Dr. Masen chooses that moment to pull the speculum out. The absence of uncomfortably stretched vag is a great relief.

"Alright, well I think we're all done," she says cheerfully. "Everything looks good. We should have your lab results within a week, and we'll call you if anything is abnormal. Just remember that no news is good news."

"Thank you," I say with a sigh. Almost over. What are the chances she won't remember me whenever we're formally introduced? And on that thought, does Edward even plan to introduce me to her? We've only been together about a week. We're official, but things are still too new to be sure how serious we'll be. For all I know the chase was half the fun, and now he's tiring of me. A depressing thought, for sure, because it's quite the opposite for me; every kiss, every touch, every time he makes me laugh or smile, I grow more and more attached.

"I'll let you get dressed and I'll be back in a few minutes, alright?"

I dress quickly after she leaves. She returns moments later with a prescription for birth control and the paper I am to take to the secretary when I check out. After pointing me in the right direction, she says goodbye and we part ways.

She was nice. Perfect, really. Under normal circumstances I would kill for her to be my doctor. But these are nowhere near normal circumstances, and if I'm lucky I'll wake up and realize this entire visit was a dream. Or maybe the friendliest, fanciest nightmare I've ever had. Coffee really _was_ too good to be true.

I feel slightly better as I check out. It's almost over.

And then I hear his voice. Smooth, velvety, confused. A voice I would know anywhere.

"Bella?"

Yes, things definitely just got worse.

I look up to find him in the doorway of an office. _Her _office. And then Dr. Masen is back, standing in the hallway while she looks back and forth between the two of us. Her face lights up with a brilliant smile.

"Edward!" she gushes. "I thought you'd get here a little later. How funny, cause we were just talking about you. Do you know Bella? She works at Harborview and says she knows you from work."

Edward's eyes bore into mine. I'm sure my face is a carefully composed mask of pure terror. But in my defense, I try really hard to look like I'm not freaking out.

"Yes, I know Bella," he finally says, crossing his arms over his chest. Now that the surprise is wearing off, he mostly just looks confused. I can't blame the man because I've been present for the entire ordeal and still can't make sense of this mess.

"Okay, good. I guess introductions aren't necessary then. Edward, you should really take more time off work. Bella's only been here a short while and is already smitten by her very own Mr. Perfect. You've been here…what? Twenty years?" she chastises. Now that I'm looking at them, side by side, I can see the subtle similarities. They share the same straight nose, the same dark hair, although Dr. Masen's strands are streaked with gray. Her face is also heart-shaped, her features more delicate and light and her skin edged with the fine lines of age.

Edward shifts uncomfortably. Okay, this might be getting slightly out of hand. I should probably say something.

"What are you talking about?" he asks bluntly, frowning.

"I'm talking about grandchildren, Edward!" she scolds, smacking his arm. "I'm not getting any younger, you know." She appears to have forgotten all about me being here. Edward's eyes meet mine again, and I just shrug helplessly and mouth "I'm sorry!"

If I'm sly about it, I might be able to creep out the door, run like hell, and never look back.

Edward cocks an eyebrow as if sensing my plan. I'm starting to perspire I'm getting so anxious, but Dr. Masen is carrying on the conversation, completely oblivious.

"So about Friday, Edward…I know you love the cheesecake I always make, but I found this new recipe for lemon chiffon from Barefoot Contessa that is absolutely _sinful_. I was thinking about making it for dessert instead. What do you think?"

Edward looks at me again. I'm standing frozen in some sort of panic, not really knowing how to go about excusing myself and yet feeling awkward as hell just standing here listening to his mother talk about grandchildren and lemon chiffon. Not to mention just fifteen minutes ago I went on and on about how great her son is _and _revealed that we're sexually active.

Kill. Me. Now.

"I don't know," Edward says absently, his eyes meeting mine. "Do you like lemon chiffon, Bella?"

Dr. Masen looks at me, frowning slightly in confusion. She probably thinks he's just seeking another opinion and she doesn't want to be rude by pointing out that _I _won't be eating the sinful dessert, so my opinion doesn't matter. And why _does_ my opinion matter? He hasn't invited me to meet his parents.

Holy crap, is he planning to invite me to meet his parents?

"I, uh…" My voice comes out strained, so I quickly clear my throat. "I hear it's delicious."

Not exactly what he asked, but I'm just thankful I got that much out without fainting. It puts a brilliant smile on Dr. Masen's face either way.

"If you would have told me you were going to be here, I would have brought you lunch," Edward goes on. "I was just stopping in to have a quick bite with my mother."

I glance behind him and see bags of takeout sitting on Dr. Masen's desk.

"Don't be ridiculous," I say too quickly. I couldn't be more pleased that he didn't bring me lunch because that would just prolong my stay. "I really need to get going. Busy day, lots to do. It was nice meeting you, Dr. Masen."

Dr. Masen waves half-heartedly. "You too, Bella. I'll see you at your next appointment. Good luck with your special guy."

Okay, that probably sounded kind of strange to Edward, but there's no way in Hades I'm hanging around to explain.

I'm five steps from the exit when his voice stops me.

"Wait, Bella. Hold on…what the hell is going on, exactly?"

"Edward! Language!" Dr. Masen scolds. I stand there fozen, probably resembling a deer caught in headlights. Edward looks back and forth between the two of us.

"Well?" he prompts.

"Well what?" Dr. Masen repeats, obviously confused.

He turns to me. "Can I talk to you outside?"

"Yes," I quickly agree. Turning to Dr. Masen one last time, I say, "Again, nice meeting you," and disappear out the door as fast as I possibly can without looking suspicious.

I briskly walk to my car, my heart racing. Edward stops me halfway there by placing a hand on my shoulder. "Bella," he says, exasperated. "What's going on?"

I swing around to face him, my eyes wide and slightly frantic. "I don't know!" I exclaim. "One minute _Dr. Masen_ is doing my exam, the next minute she's your freakin' mother! What the hell, Edward? Alice said her name was Dr. Cullen. Why don't you two have the same last name?"

"She's Dr. Masen-Cullen," he replies, comprehension finally dawning.

"Well _Christ,_ if someone's name is Dr. Masen-Cullen then they really should introduce themselves that way." Yes, I'm bordering on hysterical.

"What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that she knows everything about my sexual history, she and my hoohah are on a first name basis, and _she's your flipping mother_!"

Someone exiting the building stares at me like I've lost my mind. Actually, I think that may be an understatement. Full-freakout mode has commenced.

Deep breaths, Bella. Picture the waterfall. That's it.

And then Edward starts laughing. Laughing!

"You're really gorgeous when you're worked up, you know that?" he asks through a chuckle, and I blush at the compliment. "But don't you think you're being just a tad bit dramatic?" He crosses his arms as we gradually finish migrating to my car. "She's a doctor, it's her job to know these things."

"No." I shake my head, my voice surprisingly calmer. "It's her job to know these things about everyone else. Not me."

"She'll probably be excited when she finds out. She seemed to like you."

"I told her we were having sex."

"What?"

"Well I didn't say your name, but I told her I was having sex with someone. That's why I needed birth control. But in my defense, I also told her we always wore a condom and that I really liked you, so hopefully that'll make me look smart and less slutty."

Edward's mouth opens and closes. I'm sure he never bargained for this. Poor guy.

"Well, that doesn't matter," he finally says. "I'm thirty-four, Bella. With my own house and everything. I'm a little past the point of getting in trouble for having sex with someone."

"She's gonna hate me."

"I promise she won't hate you."

"I really don't think you understand the severity of the situation, Edward."

"I really think you're being dramatic, Bella."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

He pulls me to him and wraps his arm around my shoulders, kissing my forehead. He always feels and smells so perfect. So what if his mother doesn't like me?

Okay, that's actually a lie. It's a very big deal. If his mother hates me, it'll probably alter _his _opinion of me. Some guys lean very heavily on their mother's opinion. And if Edward hates me because his mother hates me, well…that would really suck.

"Will you come back inside?" he asks. "I can formally introduce you. And you can have half my sandwich. Or all of it, if you're really hungry."

Always such a gentleman. How can I say no to him?

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't."

He links his fingers through mine, holding my hand as we make our way back across the parking lot, towards the building.

"So I'm your Mr. Perfect, huh?" he asks coyly, grinning down at me cheekily. I groan and bury my face in his arm just as we're reaching the front door.

"You're never gonna let this go, are you?"

"Not on your life."

We enter the building. The secretary simply smiles as we walk past the desk, by the waterfall, and to the back towards his mother's office.

I can feel my hand sweating, which is really gross, but Edward doesn't say anything. I'm nearly lightheaded with anxiety as we approach her office. She's sitting at her desk pouring over paperwork, the food still sitting in bags in front of her. She looks up when we reach the doorway, her eyes immediately falling on me and then drifting down to our joined hands.

The curiosity is written all over her face. "Hey Bella," she says, confused. She looks over at Edward. "What's going on?"

Edward clears his throat, then releases my hand and puts his arm around my shoulder again, pushing me further into the office. "Uh, Mom, I think there was a little misunderstanding earlier," he confesses. He glances at me, a cocky, self-assured grin forming. "Bella's 'Mr. Perfect,' as you so eloquently put it, is actually me."

Always so charmingly modest, that man. Dr. Masen's eyes widen, and I swear time suddenly stands still.

God, please have mercy.

* * *

A/N: Yay early update! I'm wondering if I'm the first person to have Esme personally meet Bella's vag, but who knows what kind of kinky stuff is out there ;) Thanks to ms-ambrosia for betaing and passionmama for all her ideas and hard work this chapter. Thanks for all your reviews and comments, they're always very much appreciated.

A big thanks to Katie as well, who did an interview and rec'd Doctor's Orders over on Tazz's Twilight Obsession blog. You can check it out here: http : / / tazzsobsession . blogspot . com - just take out the spaces.

I don't know when the next update will be (do I ever know?) because I'm going out of town next week and then I have finals. But I always get them out as quickly as I can.

I'm **mybluesky1** on twitter for teasers and updates.

xoxo


	16. Chapter Fifteen

A/N: Holy shiza! You guys really got a kick out of poor, poor Bella's torture. Have you no shame? Alas, since you all enjoyed it so much, it shall commence in 3...2...1...

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

-x-x-x-x-

**Chapter 15 - Dinner with the Vagina Goddess**

"Wait a second…" Confused, dark blue eyes look back and forth between me and Edward. At our clasped hands. "Are you two serious? That's quite a surprise! Were you talking about Edward that whole time, Bella?"

My face is scorching hot. I know it must be an alarming shade of red, and I still want nothing more than to melt into the floor and disappear. But I hold my own, clear my throat, and try to maintain a little dignity.

Edward spares me by cockily replying, "What other guy would be so perfect?" His voice is teasing and indignant, and Dr. Masen-Cullen gives him a chastising look.

"Well she never said you were modest," she points out frankly, as if that realization makes sense out of everything else. It would be kind of funny if I weren't on the verge of hyperventilating.

Slow, deep breaths, Bella. Passing out and banging my head on her desk would be the icing on the cake of awkwardness right now.

"Hey! I'm modest." Edward's eyes move from her to me, and he pretends to be offended. The light humor he's brought into the room makes me feel a little better, but I remain anxious. He still has his arm across my shoulders, his thumb brushing my skin reassuringly.

"This is just lovely," Dr. Masen-Cullen goes on warmly, ignoring her son, and I suspect she may be trying to loosen me up. Thank God she's merciful. "How long have you two been dating? Edward, why haven't told me all about Bella yet?"

"We just became official last week."

"Last _week_?" Blue eyes turn to me, chagrinned. I know what she's thinking – she's remembering how I revealed that I've already molested her son's peen. Only a week and I've already seduced her innocent baby boy.

_But we wore a condom_! I want to shout. Doesn't that earn me any sort of praise?

Oh yeah, of course it doesn't. She wants grandchildren.

But I have to give her credit – she composes herself quite quickly, her smile returning as though it had never disappeared. Edward clears his throat and says, "Yeah, Mom. But we've been dating for a few months and I really like her." He gives my shoulder a little squeeze to emphasize his point.

_Oh, thank you Jesus_. I could kiss Edward right now, both for the sweet complement and the save. But I won't, because I'm still too terrified to speak, let alone maul Dr. Masen-Cullen's son right in front of her.

"Well that's wonderful," Dr. Masen-Cullen says, beaming again. "Do you still need to leave, Bella? I'd love it if you joined us for lunch. How awkward you must have felt earlier! Did you even know I was his mother?" She laughs heartily as she sits down, and at her easygoing demeanor I can feel my anxiety slowly melting away. Maybe she understands. Maybe everything will be alright after all.

"Um, no…I didn't, actually," I say, chuckling nervously.

"It's the Dr. Masen thing, right?" She rolls her eyes. "Such a pain, I know. I usually just go by my maiden name, though some people call me Dr. Cullen. Especially those who know Carlisle or Edward," she says, and I assume Carlisle must be her husband. "Have a seat, Bella, please. Do you like turkey and ham sandwiches? You can have half my lunch."

"She can have mine, Mom," Edward offers as we both sit.

"Are you sure, honey?"

"I'm positive."

She begins digging through the bag of food, still talking animatedly about the woes of a hyphenated last name. I just smile and nod dumbly as I try to wrap my head around everything that's happened.

Edward rubs my thigh with his hand, then leans over and whispers, "I told you it would be okay." It _does _appear that way, judging by Dr. Masen-Cullen's ever-broadening smile, so maybe I was being just a tad bit dramatic before. It never hurts to be prepared, however.

Dr. Masen-Cullen sets a wrapped sandwich in front of me. "So Bella," she says conversationally, "you're going to come to dinner Friday night, right? Then you can meet his father, who I promise will be on his best behavior." She throws a pointed look at Edward as she says the last part, and he rolls his eyes irritably in response. The entire exchange is a little confusing.

"Um, yeah," I answer uncertainly. "If Edward wants me to come."

"Of course he does," she answers for him. "Right, Edward?"

"Of course, Mom," he says with a forced smile, yet his demeanor opposes those words, leaving me just a little uncertain and, despite efforts not to read into it, a great deal hurt.

-x-x-

"So that was awkward," I say as we enter my apartment. We had stayed in his mother's office for about twenty minutes while eating and we discussed the weather, one of Edward's cousins, and Dr. Masen-Cullen's landscaper who she's apparently considering firing due to an overabundance of weeds in her garden. The topic of his father never reemerged, and I was dismissed with a tight hug and a promise to call her Esme in the future.

Edward shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it across the kitchen chair, but doesn't reply. I start to think something must be wrong until he steps closer to me and cups my head in one hand, then leans forward and plants a heavy kiss on my lips. He pulls back.

"I'm gonna use you're restroom real quick, if that's okay."

"Sure."

He disappears down the hallway, leaving me frowning. I'm still a little put off by his reaction over me having dinner with his parents, but since we took separate cars to my place, I wasn't able to ask him about it. I pour us both a drink and set them on the coffee table in the living room just as he's returning.

He approaches me again, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Hey gorgeous," he murmurs, kissing me once more. This kiss is more intense, his tongue darting forward to lick my lower lip. I open myself to him, enjoying his sweet taste for a few brief moments before I pull away.

"What's wrong?" he asks, frowning.

I don't really know how to put it mildly, so I go straight in for the kill. "Do you not want me to have dinner with your parents?"

"Why would you think that?" He looks a little affronted.

I shrug. "The way you looked. I mean, I know it's still kind of soon. I won't be offended or anything. And in all honesty, I never expected to meet your mother this soon…"

"I'm glad you met her," he responds, and then he leans forward to kiss me again, effectively hazing my thoughts and nearly making me forget what I wanted to know. "Now my two favorite women know each other."

Somewhere, it occurs to me that he has avoided my question.

Then he begins kissing my neck, and I realize I kind of don't care.

I unbutton his shirt hastily, practically shoving it from his shoulders, and the rest of our clothes are discarded with a similar urgency. I force his mother completely from my mind, and we have sex on my bed, our movements slow, our kisses passionate. We lie tangled in my sheets afterwards, cuddling, neither of us eager to escape the comfort. My back is to his chest and he trails light fingers across my skin.

"I missed you," he murmurs into my hair. "You know you're mine now, right? Six whole days…"

"I have to work on Thursday," I inform him regretfully.

"Five and a half days, then. I can work with that."

"Mmm. I'm looking forward to it, Dr. Cullen."

He's silent for a few moments, and then he says, "So umm…you want to go out this Saturday?"

I twist my neck to look at him, my smile teasing. "Dr. Cullen…are you asking me out on a date?"

He cocks an eyebrow. "Would you say yes if I was?"

"I'll think about it."

"I have it on good authority that you'd regret saying no, Miss Swan."

"Is that so?" I turn around to face him, grinning. I decide to have a go at my earlier question again. "What about Friday?"

"What about it?"

"Dinner with your parents. Do you want me to come?"

"You're invited, aren't you?"

"Your _mother _invited me. I asked if you want me to come."

"Of course I do."

"Then why are you acting funny?"

"I'm not. It's just…" His voice trails, and he sighs, raising a hand to rub his eyes. "I just get nervous about you meeting my dad."

"Why? You don't think he'll like me?" I ask, suddenly anxious.

He kisses me softly, tenderly, while his fingers carefully push my hair from my face.

"He'd be an idiot not to like you, Bella."

I close my eyes, forcing myself to relax. Yet as soothing as his touches are, they don't dispel the dread that lingers in the back of my mind.

-x-x-

I hate working when Edward is off.

All I can think about is how he's probably at home, alone, looking sexy and delicious, while I'm at work cleaning up crap – _literally_ – while shouldering complaints from other rude, unattractive doctors. To make matters worse, the census is low, which means we don't have a lot of patients and, miraculously, the ones I do have are surprisingly self-sufficient and stable and without many needs. This would be a prime time to slip away to the on-call room with Edward, but he'd have to actually be in the building for that to happen. Instead, I have no one to molest and time is crawling by.

My only consolation is that Emmett is here to keep me entertained. He has a student today who he calls Legs due to her remarkable ability to haul ass down the hallway whenever he forgets stuff, and she's also great at making multiple trips to our pharmacy. However, despite this obviously great feature, he never fails to take advantage of her at every opportunity, instructing her to bathe all the patients and refill water pitchers. But I think she might have a crush on him or something because she just giggles a lot and does whatever he tells her to.

We eventually sneak away to the break room in the afternoon, each of us with our cordless phones handy so that the secretary can call us if we're needed.

Emmett is devouring some kind of cake he bought downstairs.

"Damn," he says appreciatively. "They can't cook for shit, but this cake is pretty fucking good."

"I'm sure it came from a box," I say.

"Still." He holds out a giant forkful in front of my face, presenting a piece so big that I'd probably choke to death if I tried to swallow that whole bite. "Wanna try?"

I refuse, and he shrugs and shoves the entire bite into his gaping mouth. I crinkle my nose in disgust.

"I bet your digestive system hates you."

"It fucking loves me right now," he says around the mouthful of cake.

We sit in silence a few moments while he eats, and then I say, "So has enough time passed that I'm allowed to ask about Dr. Hale?"

Emmett looks at me, cocking an eyebrow. "What about her?"

"I manned up," I declare. "Have _you_?"

Yes, I'm still insanely nosy about things that are none of my business. But Emmett knows about me and Edward – he helped _instigate _the whole thing, as a matter of fact – so it just seems fair that I should receive an update on him and Dr. Hale as well.

To my surprise, he actually looks a little sulky. "She's seeing someone else."

"_Already_?" I gasp.

"Not serious or anything. At least, not that I know of. But they went out on a date."

"But I thought you two were still sleeping together."

"We are," he assures, and the present-tense usage doesn't slip by me. "But this is what she does – she gets pissed and goes out on a date with someone else. To piss me off."

"It looks like it's working," I observe.

"Of _course _it's working, Pockets. Jesus Christ. Wouldn't it piss you off if Edward went on a date with someone else?"

"Hell yes it would," I exclaim, indignant at even the _thought _of that happening. "But that's why I manned up. If you manned up then she probably wouldn't be so pissed off."

"Whatever."

"It's hard to feel sorry for you when you act like an asshole." I've kind of learned that you have to give what you get with Emmett – he respects you more when you forgo all the bullshit.

"Well I don't want your pity, so what-the-fuck-ever." He trails his finger along the bottom of his cake container, gathering up leftover frosting.

"Have you considered a career change?" I ask.

"What? Why would I?"

"You know why."

Emmett stays silent. He continues to scrape the container for frosting like it's the most important thing in the world. Like he hasn't just eaten a pound of sugar as it is.

I give him the time he needs, figuring it's best not to press him. When he finally looks at me again, his expression is resigned.

"You know, I was the first person in my family to graduate from college," he reveals.

"Yeah?"

"It's not a lot to everyone, but it was something to me."

"A lot of people don't get to finish college. You should be proud of yourself."

"Rose and I are different, though," he goes on. "She came from a rich family. Her parents paid her way through medical school. I had to take out a loan just to go to a community college and get a fucking two-year degree. And yes, I know it's probably stupid, but I don't want to feel inadequate for the rest of my life." He meets my eyes and says, "She's used to living a lifestyle that I can't afford."

And it suddenly makes more sense.

"Lifestyle isn't the most important thing," I respond. It's not like they'd be living off welfare checks, what with her being a doctor and all. And while being a nurse isn't exactly a paved way to earning millions, it's certainly not a life of poverty. There are opportunities for advancement and the paychecks are better than what a lot of people are able to manage.

"For some girls it is."

"Have you thought about nurse practitioner school? At my old job, they would pay your way if you agreed to work with them for a year after graduation."

He's ripping up a straw wrapper. "Yeah, I've thought about it."

"And…?"  
"I don't know. It's a lot of school."

I sit back in my chair and huff. "Well I guess you don't like her that much after all."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asks, his tone offended.

"You don't want to be with her because you don't think your career is good enough, yet you basically just admitted that you're too lazy to go back to school."

"I'm not lazy, I'm mellow. There's a difference. And I'm still thinking about it."

"Think faster. She's not going to wait around forever."

"Yeah, yeah." He looks at me, his eyes suddenly shining with mirth. "So is it true?"

I'm confused by his change in demeanor. "Is what true?"

"You let Edward's mom examine your twat."

"Emmett!" I gasp, instantly mortified. "Who the hell told you that?"

"Alice, of course. She can't keep a secret to save her life, by the way, but I guess you've probably figured that out by now." He looks slightly sympathetic, but there's still laughter dancing in his blue eyes. "And she acted like she felt bad about it, if it's any consolation."

"It's not," I say bluntly, not amused, and he shrugs.

"I wouldn't stress over it, Pockets. Not many women can say their mother's boyfriend has palpated their ovaries and taken vag swabs. Nothing says 'nice to meet you' quite like spreading your legs and offering a full frontal display."

I let my head fall on the table, and it hits the surface with a dull thud. I groan. "Do I have the crappiest luck in the world or what? I _knew _I shouldn't have gone to her office. But in my defense, they had a waterfall. And coffee, Emmett. _Coffee_!" I pound my fist on the table to reiterate my point, and Emmett just nods knowingly.

"Trust me, I've heard. It's like the holy shrine to vag there. Edward's mom is famous for it. Vaginas from all over Washington come to Seattle to worship her."

"Yes! It's like where vaginas go when women die. It's vagina heaven, and Edward's mother is the vagina goddess."

"Yeah…tough break for _your _vagina, though," he says seriously, and the door opens just then, allowing the intruder to hear the tail-end of Emmett's sentence. It's Legs, and she looks wary as she peers in at both of us.

My face heats. _Great_. As if my hoohah needed anything else to be embarrassed about.

"Uh…" She's obviously at a loss for words. "Emmett, Mrs. Leonard's IV went bad. I stopped her fluids but I think we're gonna need to start a new one."

Emmett sighs, then slowly stands. Legs disappears out the door again. He turns to me and, with an amused smirk, adds, "Never anger the vagina gods, Pockets." He wags a finger at me, then slips out the door with a low snicker.

_Fucker._

I eventually drift back towards the nurses station and check on all my patients. They don't need anything. As I'm coming back, I see a tall doctor dressed in light blue scrubs with a surgical cap on his head. He has a trace of blond hair protruding out of the bottom of the cap, and, as he turns, I see his profile and notice a strong jaw. He's older, but good-looking. _Very _good-looking. Comparable to Edward, even, which is an impressive feat. I don't realize I'm ogling him until Emmett walks by me trying to suppress a chuckle. Asshole.

And then the doctor turns around, and for the second time in less than three days, I want to fall on the floor and die.

His eyes are the same shape, the same shocking green as Edward's, his jaw and lips nearly identical as well.

Thank God I haven't opened my embarrassing mouth yet. I expected this to happen sooner or later; I just wasn't quite prepared to _really _find his father this good-looking. Now that I have, I feel a little dirty. Ogling your boyfriend's father must be a new kind of low.

But in my defense, he really looks a lot like Edward. An older version, with blond hair, but Edward nonetheless.

I realize Dr. Cullen is speaking. "Is someone going to tell me where 432's chart is, or do I need to put together a search party?" His voice is kind of teasing, not at all harsh and demanding like I expected. I see the chart tucked away beneath some others in Aro's corner, where he's been using the computer. I walk over and pull it out, then hand it to Dr. Cullen without saying a word.

He meets my eyes as he takes it, smiling lightly. Even his smile looks like Edward's. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," I say, forcing cheerfulness to my voice. If I'm going to officially meet him on Friday, I had better go ahead and make a good impression. Or at least an okay impression.

Hell, hopefully he'll just forget he ever saw me.

"Do you have this patient?" he asks.

"Um, no. Aro does. Do you want me to call him for you?"

"If you could just get me a foley bag and some silk tape, that would be great. And just let his nurse know that I'm going to change his chest tube to the bag so that the patient can be discharged with it whenever his primary is ready to let him go home."

I get the supplies and receive another thank you. Then Dr. Cullen rips out a sheet of paper from his patient's chart and flings it across the table, surprising me.

"This is in the wrong chart," he says authoritatively. "Tell your charge nurse this is in the wrong chart. That can cause some serious patient errors, you know." He's actually right, and not unreasonable, so I nod as I pick the paper off the table.

"Yes sir."

He stands up and disappears to his patient's room, and when he leaves he tells us all to have a good day. I'm more confused than before because he doesn't seem awful. Yet I'm not his son. He may treat Edward differently than he treats strangers, and I'm nervous and wary and even more unsure what to expect.

-x-x-

The Cullen house is huge, with an iron fence and a brick mailbox. While there's no waterfall, there's a large, circular driveway with a trickling fountain in the center. There are plants and bushes throughout the yard, which I'm sure at certain times of the year would bloom gorgeous flowers, and interspersed throughout the garden are little life-sized statues of various animals, such as squirrels and turtles and baby deer. I feel like I'm venturing into the White Witch's castle in Narnia, except this place is more lush and green and none of the animal statues have expressions of horror frozen on their tiny stone faces.

Edward parks in the driveway and steps out of the car. He walks to my side of the vehicle and takes my hand.

"Intimidating much?" I ask, my voice a mixture of awe and maybe a little fear. My anxiety and dread over meeting his father has only increased over time, and now, with only a few steps between us, I feel like my heart is going to burst out of my chest. I told Edward about my encounter with Dr. Cullen on Thursday, and while he was interested and calmed me with sweet kisses and assuring words, it didn't really help me feel better in the long run. Edward just squeezes my hand and leads me up the driveway.

"It'll be fine," he says, but there's no conviction to his voice.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." A quick kiss on the side of my head, for assurance. "What do you think is going to happen?"

"Besides the apocalypse?"

He chuckles, assuming I'm joking, and this does nothing for my poor, frayed nerves. But we're at the front door now, and I don't want to keep discussing it for fear that his mom or dad might stand on the other side and eavesdrop on us. That's not likely to happen, of course, but the paranoia is there all the same.

He opens the door without knocking, urging me in ahead of him. I smell food immediately – something spicy and delicious, with a hint of sweetness mingled in. And then I look in front of me and see a person, and I jump nearly a foot off the ground, clasping a startled hand to my chest.

Edward is laughing loudly behind me, which I witness through the mirror that's directly opposite the door. I had been startled by my own reflection.

I turn around and smack him on the arm. His attempt to dodge the blow is feeble, and his smile doesn't falter.

"That's not funny!" I hiss at him, and he responds by pulling me into his arms and wrapping me in a grip so tight that I can't wriggle free.

"It was cute, though."

"It was horrifying."

He laughs harder, and then his mother suddenly steps into the foyer, a neat little apron tied around her slim waist. I have a mental image of the both of us wrenching free of each other like we're fifteen years old, but Edward's hold on me loosens slowly. I smile and straighten my clothing, embarrassed, but Esme looks pleased.

"Bella, I'm so glad you could come." She pulls Edward into a quick, tight hug, and then, to my surprise, she showers the same affection onto me. She smells like freesia and mixed spices.

"Of course," I reply, patting her awkwardly on the back before she releases me. "It smells delicious."

She smiles. "It's honey curried chicken with potatoes and vegetables. The men's favorite. And of course the lemon chiffon for dessert, which will _soon _be their favorite." She ends her sentence with a wink.

"Where's dad?" Edward asks.

"In his study. Bella, would you like to help me in the kitchen?"

"Oh, of course."

She leads the way. Expensive furniture and exquisite taste adorns every room we pass until we finally reach the kitchen, which is large and tasteful with dark granite countertops and white cabinets. There are cut vegetables and a variety of spices on the counter, with two simmering pots on the stove and an oven that glows from within. Esme opens a drawer and pulls out a folded apron.

"Here," she says, handing it to me. "I don't want you to get your clothes dirty. Such a pretty dress, by the way! It seems like just yesterday I was able to pull off those cute little outfits. Not everything stays tucked in place quite like it used to, unfortunately."

The woman must be insane. She's lean and graceful in a tight-fitting skirt and matching blouse, and her four-inch heels put my two-inchers to shame. My feet hurt just looking at her footwear, and my ass is screaming that I should probably hit the gym more often if I ever want to look that awesome in my fifties.

Her modesty gene must have skipped clear over Edward.

"Thank you," I reply as I tie the apron around my waist.

She reaches across the counter and picks up a nearly full bottle. "Wine?"

I officially _love _her.

"That would be awesome," I gush without thinking. Then I realize how I must sound and have to refrain from stupidly slapping a hand to my mouth. She gives a knowing little smile before pouring me a glass.

"You don't have to hold back around me, Bella," she assures me. "I've pretty much seen it all. And if Edward likes you, you're obviously a very special girl."

Her words ease my nerves, but then I hear a round of deep laughter from upstairs and I take the glass hastily, downing half its contents in one swallow. Anything to relax before I'm faced with both parents. Esme turns to the stove and begins stirring her vegetables, and I notice she has her own half-full glass of wine sitting on the counter.

She doesn't really ask me to do anything. We just talk, me sipping my wine, and without a word she refills my glass and turns back to the food. We talk about the hospital and Edward and this sale at Macy's where she apparently bought her new cooking pots. She gives me a peek at the lemon chiffon, and then I help set the table. Edward comes into the kitchen then, his hands immediately finding my sides, his lips immediately finding my cheek. I try not to tense at his touch, but I'm still too wound up over what his mother will think of me.

She doesn't seem to notice. "What's your father doing?" she asks absently.

"Research."

"Is he coming down?"

"I don't know, Mom." He sounds slightly exasperated, but his hand, which has moved to my arm, remains gentle and soothing. "What else do you need help with?"

"Nothing, honey. Will you just tell your father that dinner is ready?"

Edward sighs, gives my arm a little squeeze, and disappears from the room again. Esme hums as we finish setting up the table, and she lights a few candles for the centerpiece. I finish my second glass of wine, my nerves not nearly dulled enough to quell the anxiety over what I'm soon to face.

Esme is pouring a glass of wine for each of us when Dr. Cullen enters. He's wearing a starched, button-down shirt with crisp khaki pants and brown dress shoes. His blond hair is pushed back from his head, his green eyes shimmering from his pleasant smile. Edward follows behind him, a bronze-haired imitation, his expression controlled as he makes his way around the table towards me.

Dr. Cullen's eyes fall on me immediately. He looks quite different – more pretentious, actually – without his scrubs and surgical cap. But his handsome smile is almost enough to eliminate any unease.

"Well hello there," he says kindly and, as he reaches the table, he leans forward and holds his hand out to mine. I shake it with wary caution, still on the alert for some kind of rude remark or indication that he hates me.

"Hi," I reply uneasily. Then I tell myself to get a grip and appear more confident. "I'm Bella."

"Bella, I'm Carlisle."

That's a good start, I suppose. He's not making me call him Dr. Cullen. But he offers no indication that he remembers me from when we saw each other the other day.

Edward pulls my chair for me, and I sit down. He takes a seat in the chair beside me.

"This smells good," Carlisle comments. He cocks an eyebrow as he sits. "Chicken again, I presume?" He looks over at Esme, who is unperturbed.

"Now let's not get started on _this _again, Carlisle," she says heartily. "You know what your doctor said about your cholesterol."

He looks at me. "Isn't that hilarious? You'd think I was a bus boy or something, the way she swears by everything _he _says."

I don't see the humor, but I force a smile anyway. His tone is light – joking, even – but I can't help but suspect that there's a former disagreement hidden in there somewhere.

"Where's my Courvoisier?" he goes on, not awaiting a response to his previous statement. "Edward, you're not having wine, are you?"

Edward's eyes fall on the table, where a glass of white wine sits. "It doesn't really matter," he says with a shrug.

"Don't be ridiculous, son. Wine is a woman's drink. No offense, Bella." He stands up again, heading towards the cabinets. Edward glances at me apologetically, while I maintain a careful, cool façade. "Where's the bottle of Courvoisier, Esme?"

"It's right here," she says impatiently, handing him the bottle. She sets a glass on the table for him as he's returning to his seat.

"Where's Edward's glass?" he goes on.

"It's fine, Dad," Edward tries to refuse. "I really don't mind the wine."

Carlisle pours him a glass anyway, ignoring his protests. When Edward reaches for the drink, he hastily stops him. "Give it a minute to _breathe_, Edward! It needs at least a full minute or you'll kill the flavor."

_Well alright then, crazy brandy drinker_. I take another long sip of my wine while assuring myself, again and again, that Edward's father can't possibly be certifiably insane. They don't allow crazy people to slice you open, right? But who in their right mind would make such a god-awful fuss over their son's drink? Nonetheless, I'm finally getting a pleasant little buzz to help push me through the dinner. Edward is tense and uncomfortable beside me, and Esme has lapsed into silence as she finishes setting everything up.

I think I was wrong before. _This _is quite possibly the most awkward situation _ever_.

Esme finally sits down and, with a pleasant smile, says, "Alright, let's dig in."

We each fix our plates. Carlisle fixes his plate first, then passes the dish off to Esme, who smiles apologetically before handing it to Edward. Edward tells her to get her helping first, but she refuses and he allows me to get my helping instead.

Once our plates are full, and Carlisle has finally allowed Edward to drink his brandy, Carlisle says, "So Bella, how did you and Edward meet?"

He looks at me expectantly, and I quickly swallow and clear my throat before replying, "We met at work."

"At work? You work at Harborview?"

I should probably be offended that he doesn't remember me, but I'm surprisingly unbothered. His insistence over the brandy was enough to make me wary of him, and if he's that persistent over a _drink_, I can only imagine how he is in more important aspects of his life. Just the thought of it makes me pity Edward's childhood.

"Yes, sir."

"Really? Well you look a bit young to be a doctor. What area do you work in?"

I can't really make out whether he thinks I'm a doctor anyway, or if he refuses to accept the truth, or if he's just plain crazy after all. Gathering my courage, I say, "Um…fourth floor. I'm actually a nurse."

Edward is no less tense beside me, and it makes me nervous. Carlisle looks at me again, his eyes calculating, then hums to himself and returns to his food.

"I see," he says simply.

He's probably thinking about Dr. Ellis, the sexy red-headed surgeon with huge knockers. He's probably wondering what Edward sees in _me_, the short little nurse with an average-sized rack and straight brown hair.

Everyone is silent, and I'm unnerved. Then Edward catches my eye and winks, forcing a smile. He does this just to make me feel better, despite his own tension.

And it works.

I want Edward's parents to love me, to be supportive and ask for my opinion on important matters and invite me over again. I certainly don't want to be the source of animosity between him and his father, and I'll do whatever it takes to prevent that from happening. But if Edward is able to brush his father's ill opinion aside, then so will I.

Esme's voice breaks the silence. "Bella said she just moved here from Florida, Carlisle. You really liked it there the last time we went." She looks at me and adds, "We went on a cruise for our eighth wedding anniversary and it stopped in Key West."

"I liked it better than the Bahamas was all I said," Carlisle replies curtly. "Such an overrated place. You know I saw a rat there that was bigger than a terrier?" He looks at me as he says this, his eyes penetrating, as if I'm supposed to offer up some kind of explanation for the beasts.

I'm not really sure what to say. "That's terrible. I never knew they huge had rats in Key West," I eventually force out.

"What? No, the _Bahamas_ had huge rats, Bella. Were you even listening?"

"Dad," Edward cuts in, his tone warning. Carlisle looks at him, then me, then he returns to his plate with a slight shrug.

"Well I thought Key West was just lovely," Esme goes on. "Although people there drank a bit much for my taste. But it was a beautiful city. Water was just _crystal _clear, not a single wave in sight!"

"This food is really good, Mom," Edward slips in, and I hastily agree, kicking myself for not being the first to say so. Carlisle only waits a few seconds before starting in on me again.

"So why did you move to Washington, Bella?"

I shrug, because there's obviously no way I'm divulging even an ounce of my love life to him. "My dad lives here, so I always visited at least once a year. And I just needed a change."

"How long have you been here?"

"About two months."

"You going back to school?"

"Back to school for what?" I ask, confused. His reasoning dawns on me just a second too late.

"You plan on being a nurse for the rest of your life?" His voice is incredulous. I suddenly realize what Edward was talking about, and the problems he must have had dealing with his father while growing up.

"There's nothing wrong with being a nurse, Dad," Edward interrupts pointedly. I can feel my face getting hot, because although I suspected this would happen, it doesn't embarrass me any less. I'm sitting at a table full of doctors while basically being told my choice of career is subpar. That it's not good enough.

"I never said there was anything wrong with it," Carlisle argues. "Not for everyone else, at least."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Edward challenges, and Carlisle gives a heavy sigh.

"All I'm saying is I don't see what was so wrong with Dr. Ellis." Both Edward and Esme try to interrupt him, Edward's ears probably redder than my own, but Carlisle's voice is imposing and relentless. "She's a very successful surgeon, her father's a Senator, and for some God-forsaken reason she agreed to marry you."

There's a gasp of surprise, but I realize a second later that the noise was all in my head. For a split second, everyone's eyes are on me – Esme's apologetic, Edward's wide and panicked, his father's condescending and smug. Then just as quickly, the kitchen bursts to life, everyone talking at once as I swallow back the humiliation that burns like acid in my throat.

The same words float around and around in my head as Edward tries to apologize, his face shameful as he makes excuses for his terrible father.

The same words, all laden and heavy with disbelief.

He was going to _marry _her?

* * *

A/N: I know, I know, I'm a big ole' cliffie whore. Feel free to yell at me via reviews. And big thanks for the reviews and responses last chapter. I was a little blown away, to be honest. And I feel like every time I log on to twitter, I find someone else is rec'ing this little story, so...thank you! I'm thrilled!

ms-ambrosia beta'd and passionmama preread, as usual, so special thanks to them as well. I apologize if you asked a question in a review and I haven't responded yet...I'll get to it soon, hopefully, but RL has been a bitch. I'm actually supposed to be studying for finals right now...sshhhh...don't tell anyone!

Next update probably within 2 weeks, but I'll tweet about it if something happens.

I'm **mybluesky1** on twitter for teasers and updates.

xoxo


	17. Chapter Sixteen

A/N: To make up for being a cliffie whore, I'm giving you this chapter over a week early! Go me, go me! See, cliffies can be good sometimes.

Also, I completely forgot to put a list of medical references last chapter. There wasn't many, and knowing them isn't essential to understanding the story...well, except the nurse practitioner thing...but for those of you who are interested, here it is:

**Foley** - technically called a foley catheter, it's a urinary catheter than drains pee into a bag. I've seen surgeons tear the catheter part off and connect the bag to a patient's chest tube, which is lighter and easier to carry around.

**Chest tube** - a tube put into a person's chest to remove air or fluid.

**Nurse Practitioner** - a registered nurse who has at least a master's degree and works under a doctor. They give orders, write prescriptions, and pretty much do everything a doctor does.

-x-x-

**Disclaimer: **Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight

-x-x-x-x-

**Chapter 16 - Shameless**

The scene plays out perfectly in my head.

In my head, I stand up, grab Edward's plate, and whip it across the dinner table like a deadly Frisbee. Food flies off in all directions and it whizzes past Carlisle's head, missing by mere centimeters but coming close enough to ruffle his blonde hair like a soft gust of wind. I'm upset that I missed, but it's for the best – the last thing I need on my record is a murder charge, especially against my boyfriend's father, and anyway, it scares Carlisle so bad that he drops to the floor like he was shot at, begging for mercy at my feet. He stabs himself with a chicken bone on the way down, but alas, it's not a fatal wound. It's a bleeder, though, and in all the excitement Edward and Esme have fainted, and I'm the only around who can stench the blood, because it's on Carlisle's back and out of his reach.

"Bella!" he says desperately, his voice agonized as he finally understands the error of his ways. "Please help me! I'll bleed to death if you don't save me with your superior nursing knowledge!"

I scoff and throw my cell phone at him, then peer down at him evilly with my hands on my hips. "You'd better call Edward's wenchy fiancé, Carlisle, because no nurse will ever save you now!"

My mad cackles echo around the kitchen; Carlisle balls his fist and shakes it at the heavens as he releases a drawn out, despondent, "Nnnooooooooooo!"

In my head, everything works out perfectly.

In reality, Esme's chair scrapes against the tiled floor as she abruptly stands. In reality, I sit there shocked, frozen to my seat, unable to fully grasp the blatant insult and shocking news I just received from my boyfriend's father.

In reality, everything happens quickly, and for once I feel like I have no control over the situation. Like I'm a spectator who couldn't intervene even if I wanted to.

"That's enough, Carlisle," Esme says angrily. "You're embarrassing all of us and I'm not going to stand for it. Bella is a guest in this house and deserves more courtesy."

"And that was out of line, Dad," Edward quickly adds, his voice just as venomous. "You promised Mom you weren't going to be like this again." Edward finds my hand and laces his fingers tightly through mine, probably keeping a firm grip in case I decide to bolt.

Not surprisingly, Carlisle isn't the least bit perturbed at being attacked from two sides.

"Well Edward," he starts calmly, "you know how I feel about this…"

"It doesn't matter!" Edward interrupts. "It doesn't matter how _you _feel! You can't just speak to people however you want to. Bella's important to me. And furthermore, it's not _your_ life!"

"_You_ are my life!"

"Carlisle! A word now, please!" Esme demands, her voice rising above the others as she seizes control of the situation. Carlisle sighs and throws his napkin on the table before standing. Esme then turns to me, her expression softening. "Bella, _please _don't leave just yet, okay? I'd like to talk to you for a moment."

My mouth is open, but no sound comes out. Esme rushes Carlisle out of the kitchen with a hand on his arm, and I immediately hear them begin arguing in the hallway; however, their muffled words are lost among the thoughts that rage like wildfire through my mind.

Edward immediately shifts his entire body towards me, both of his hands clasping mine as he leans forward. "God, Bella, I'm so so so _so _fucking sorry. He's always been like this, but I never thought he would actually insult you to your face. I feel like such an asshole. I can't believe this shit actually just happened." He pulls one hand away and uses it to rub his eyes wearily.

My senses are slowly coming back to me, the shock gradually seeping away. I debate what I want to say to Edward. If Carlisle has always been like this, then why is his behavior so surprising now? It just doesn't make sense. Just like Edward's engagement to Dr. Ellis – his attitude over their past has always been flippant and somewhat brief and, once again, it just doesn't make sense.

Edward's fingers are light and soft on the skin of my arm. "Bella? Please say something," he begs.

I clear my throat. My mouth feels abnormally dry. "Does your father have some sort of...some sort of..." I can't figure out exactly what I want to say. Some sort of mental condition? Finally, I ask, "What's _wrong _with him?"

"Fuck, Bella, I don't know!" Edward exclaims, equally perplexed. "He does this shit to me. Like with the brandy - _that's _normal for him. But I never thought in a million goddamn years that he would do this to you!"

"What did you say to him upstairs?" My voice is hushed, the fear of being overheard never quite going away.

"I told him how fucking important you are to me - how I really didn't want to screw this up. He _said _he was looking forward to meeting you!" His voice drips of apology, his eyes pleading, begging for me to understand.

Esme steps back into the room, the lines around her eyes suddenly more pronounced, leaving her haggard-looking and tired. She places a hand on the back of one of her chairs and says, "Bella, let me apologize again for what just happened. Would you mind talking for just a minute? Maybe we can finish the dinner?"

My appetite has vanished in the excitement, but I simply nod, unable to refuse the good half of Edward or the dinner she prepared just for us.

Edward stands and excuses himself, mumbling that he's going to talk to his father. Esme says nothing to him, but takes the lemon chiffon out of the refrigerator and grabs two spoons before setting it on the table. "Perhaps yaou'd like this instead," she says, removing the foil and handing me a spoon.

She knows exactly what I need.

"Thank you," I mumble. She takes a big bite of the pie with her own spoon, and after a few moments of contemplation I follow her lead and dig in. It's delicious even without an appetite, and I know under normal circumstances it would be superb.

She swallows a mouthful and says, "Please don't take anything Carlisle said personally."

Easier said than done, I think, and Esme frowns as though she's reading my mind.

"He's always just wanted the best for Edward," she goes on. "Of course, he has a strange way of showing it. He wants Edward to be just like him, and it's pretty obvious that that's not the case. Edward's always taken a lot more after me, I think."

I want to stand up and sing _Hallelujah _and blow kisses to the heavens while thanking God that he takes more after Esme, but I stay in my seat and offer an understanding nod instead.

She goes on: "Nurses are a valuable part of the medical profession. A nurse can spend more time with a patient in one day than a doctor does in his lifetime. Edward knows this – I wouldn't have raised him any other way. So don't think, for one moment, that Carlisle was justified in the things he said to you. Trust me when I say he'll be regretting his actions later."

I know this, of course. I've seen plenty of doctors who barely know their patients. Doctors who will prescribe a dose of Morphine just to shut them up, without trying to understand the source of the pain. Doctors you have to _beg _to come see their patients when you tell them repeatedly that something isn't right. Doctors who think they're superior based on their title and the power of a prescription pad.

I realize my wine is still on the table and finish it off. Wordlessly, Esme reaches over and grabs Edward's neglected, still full glass of Chardonnay that he wasn't allowed to drink and places it in front of me.

I thank her and take a sip. She watches me, her expression guarded, and I finally lick my lips and say, "He just took me by surprise. I saw him at the hospital the other day and he was actually kind of nice. I don't think he remembers me, though."

Esme smiles sadly.

"And, um...Edward and I hadn't actually talked about his engagement," I go on, feeling a little embarrassed. "So I was surprised about that too."

"Oh goodness, Bella," she says suddenly, as if caught by surprise. "Edward wasn't engaged! I should have probably said something before. I'm so sorry about that."

I feel overcome with relief. "He wasn't?"

"My word, no. Carlisle wanted it, of course," Esme elaborates. "I sometimes swore _he _would marry the woman if he could. But there was never an actual engagement."

"Then why did he say that?" I ask, more perplexed than angry. The fact that Carlisle would lie in front of all of us says terrible things about his character. I wouldn't believe Edward is related to him if not for their physical similarities.

Esme bites her bottom lip. Her spoon is placed in the barely touched container of lemon chiffon, forgotten. "I won't make excuses for him, Bella. There isn't an excuse, except that in his own, strange way, he just wants what he thinks is best for Edward."

If I wasn't working on my fourth glass of wine, I would probably be a lot angrier. Angry that I didn't stand up for myself and give Carlisle a piece of my mind; angry at Carlisle for trying to make me feel inadequate in front of Edward, who's becoming one of the most important people in my life; angry at Esme for thinking there may actually be even a tiny excuse for her husband's awful behavior.

But I'm not angry. I'm numb, and a little tipsy, and immensely relieved that Edward was never engaged. But strangely enough, I'm not angry.

Edward reenters the kitchen, looking just as tired and weary as his mother. His eyes, however, are slightly more cautious as he regards me. He looks back and forth between me and Esme, and his mother sighs and sits back in her chair as an invitation for him to join us.

But he remains standing. "Did you want to leave, Bella?" he asks warily. He's tense, almost as if he expects me to lash out at him, or else run away.

I _am _ready to leave, honestly - I'm itching to talk to Edward in private - but I can't stand the thought of leaving Esme here alone with that horrible man and her uneaten dinner. Not to mention I've barely touched the lemon chiffon she's gone on and on about.

One of my plans tonight had been to eat and rave about the lemon chiffon - to make a good impression to Esme, of course, since she was so excited about it - and I didn't even get to do that.

Esme must notice my hesitation, because she quickly stands and lifts the dessert from the table.

"It's alright, Bella. I understand. Trust me, you get a gold star for not ripping Carlisle's head off. Not that I'd blame you, but I thank you for refraining nonetheless. I've been meaning to change our life insurance policy during open enrollment, you see," she says with a wink. Then she becomes serious again. "Would you two just please take home some of this food? I'll wrap it up for you. Lord knows we can't eat it all, and I'd hate to see it go to waste."

Edward moves to help her, and all I can do is nod dumbly, the final drink of alcohol finally hazing my thoughts and offering a bit of sweet, sweet relief.

-x-x-

The ride home is quiet at first, despite Edward's obvious anxiety. He taps the steering wheel while he drives and practically chews through his bottom lip. I finally take pity and place my hand on his knee, hoping to offer some kind of comfort, and he melts against my touch.

"I'm sorry," he says again, for the hundredth time, and he reaches for my hand. A kiss is placed on my knuckles.

"It's okay," I mumble.

"It's not okay. You don't have to pretend it's okay, Bella. I want you to talk to me if you're upset, alright?"

"Alright."

He pauses. Then: "So are you upset?"

I sigh. Where to begin?

I should start with the most important thing, obviously.

"Were you and Dr. Ellis engaged?" I ask, point-blank. I know Esme already said that they weren't, but I still want to hear it from him. I want to know _why _his father said what he did, because Esme's explanation simply wasn't enough for me.

"No," Edward answers immediately. "We were definitely never engaged."

"Then what was your father talking about? She _agreed _to marry you? Do you even realize how fucked up that sounds?" I get angry just thinking about it. A woman would be _lucky _to marry Edward.

"Of course I realize it, Bella," he replies, exasperated. "But that's how he is."

"That's not really an excuse," I grumble. "You and your mother act like it's an excuse, but it's not."

"I know it's not."

"So you really had no idea he was going to act this way?"

He glances at me, incredulous. "You really think I would have just _allowed _that to happen? Just brought you into it blind-folded?"

"Well you act like it's pretty normal behavior for him," I point out.

"It's something he would say to me. It's the kind of shit he's _always _said to me. But he's never been that rude to anyone I've dated before."

"Let me guess," I begin crudely. "You've never dated a nurse before?"

He actually looks a little guilty. "Well…no," he replies slowly. Then, in defense, he quickly adds, "I would have, though. If that's what you're thinking. You know I don't have anything against nurses."

I sigh and rub my face with my hands, hoping to clear my head. It's not cold out – merely chilly – but Edward has the heat on, bathing us in a comforting warmth.

"And the engagement?" I prompt.

"I told you there was no engagement."

"How would she agree to marry you if there was no engagement?"

"I don't know, Bella." His voice is tired, making him sound a lot like how I feel. "We talked about it once, maybe. But there was never an agreement that it was going to happen and I can promise you I never got down on one knee and proposed. She and my dad have always been good friends, so maybe they talked about it?" His last statement sounds more like a question.

"Were you guys serious, then?" I ask. It's silly, but I still hate the thought of him ever being with someone else. It had to happen, of course – he's thirty-four for Christ's sake, and anyway, it was all in the past. I'd be more concerned if he _hasn't _been serious with a girl. But that doesn't mean I have to like it.

He shakes his head. "She wanted more than I did, I think."

Phew.

"Did your dad set you up?" I go on.

"He encouraged it, obviously," Edward answers. "But I liked her at first. I wouldn't just date someone because my father liked her." He glances at me, veracious, green eyes searching mine. "I promise, Bella," he adds for reassurance.

The full impact of what happened over dinner doesn't hit me until we're at his house. Until we're walking up his steps. And then – maybe from the wine, or the smell of Carlisle's wretched brandy on Edward's breath, which I think may be triggering some sort of early onset post-traumatic stress disorder – I feel my throat tighten and tears well up in my eyes.

I try to hide my face from Edward and inconspicuously wipe the moisture away, but he catches on before we're even inside the door.

"Bella – shit – are you crying?"

I turn my body away from his, only to have him struggle to force me around again, his hands on my shoulders.

"No," I sniff.

"Bella, look at me."

"I don't want to."

"Bella…" His tone is warning now. "Please talk to me."

He pushes open the door to his house and ushers me inside, then stops me before I can walk away. He pulls me to his chest and wraps me up in a tight hug. His concern only increases the sudden wave of emotion that's creeping to the surface, and tears pour freely from my eyes and onto his shirt.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I'm so fucking sorry. Please don't cry," he whispers against my hair.

"I just…" I try to choke the words out. "I was…I was caught off guard," I sob.

"I know you were," he soothes.

"He was so _mean_!"

"I know, Bella. I know."

"I want to go back and tell him where to shove his stupid degree."

"You can next time, baby. If that's what you really want."

"You promise?" I peek up at him and he chuckles.

"If it'll make you feel better," he answers.

"It will," I assure, sniffling.

He releases me so that we can walk into the living room. He wraps his throw across my shoulders and tugs on both ends, pulling me towards him slightly so that he can plant a sweet kiss on my lips. Then he straightens and heads for the kitchen, returning with two spoons. He sits beside me on the couch with the container of lemon chiffon his mother sent home with us.

"Maybe you're ready for this now?" he offers, holding out a spoon.

"Are you encouraging me to drown my sorrows in lemon chiffon?" I ask as I scoot closer to him.

"If it helps."

"I feel bad for your mom," I say, taking the spoon and scooping up a bite. Edward holds the container between us as we eat.

"Me too. But she knows how he is," he responds.

"Why does she put up with him?"

"Because she loves him," he says simply. "And he's nice to her, especially when no one's around. I've seen it. And remember how I said he used to take her to that spot in the park?"

I have a hard time picturing the Carlisle I just met – the rude, brandy-drinking jerk who blatantly insulted me – as the same man who would take his girl to such a romantic spot. He's somewhat of an enigma, someone I truly don't understand.

And maybe that's how it'll always be.

"I'm a little surprised you're sharing this with me," I comment as Edward takes another bite. "You're so possessive over cookies and everything. I thought you were going to chomp my fingers off when I tried to take one from you."

"Try to take my cookie again and I _will_ bite them off," he threatens.

"Is that a dare?"

"Only if you think you can start IVs with little nub fingers."

"That's it!" I exclaim, snatching the container out of his hand. His spoon is hanging out of his mouth, his eyes wide with surprise as I take my stolen possession and clamber to the other side of the couch with it, landing on my stomach across the armrest as I hold it out of his reach. "No more lemon chiffon for you until you learn to share."

But to my surprise, he doesn't go for the dessert. Instead, he drops his spoon and quickly pushes my dress up my thighs, all the way to my waist, and takes an almost painful bite out of my lace-clad bottom. I yelp in surprise.

"Mmm. Who needs lemon chiffon?" he muses, and I throw him a dirty look over my shoulder while trying to push my dress back down with one hand.

"You don't get that either," I say scoldingly.

"Is that a dare?" he taunts, and he grabs my hand with one of his own, holding it out of the way, and with his other hand he pulls down my panties and places a heated, lingering kiss directly between my legs. I'm so surprised that I fumble the container of pie, allowing it to hit the hardwood floor with a crash. The spoon skids several feet away.

Damn. Esme would be so upset.

Ignoring my blunder, Edward spreads my lips with two fingers and licks slowly and sensually between them. I'm already panting like desperate whore, my head falling forward as I push my hips back, eager for more.

Edward obliges, slipping a finger inside of me, then another. He works them in and out slowly and I bite my bottom lip, trying in vain to suppress the muffled, "Fuucckk!"

His other hand kneads the flesh of my bottom and thighs. His lips touch my lower back, and his breath is hot on my skin as he says, "Does that feel good?"

"Fuck yes," I grind out, unabashed.

He removes his fingers and licks me again, following the action with another kiss to my flesh. "Do you want more?"

"Please," I beg, panting. The only thing I can see as I hang halfway over the armrest of his couch is the wall across from me and the ruined dessert below. I want to turn around and maul the sexy man behind me, but I refrain, eager to see where he takes this.

"Tell me," he commands.

"I fucking want more, Edward. I _need _more. I need _you_. _Please_."

I'm freakin' shameless.

"Me?" he jests, a trace of surprise to his voice, and I'm five seconds away from turning around and gracelessly ripping his clothes off.

"Edward…" I groan. I can hear him undoing his belt behind me, and I'm brazenly excited.

"Are you going to steal dessert from me again?" he suddenly challenges.

_Holy shit_! Not fair!

"Yes," I answer defiantly. I have to draw limits somewhere.

"Wrong answer, Bella." He pulls away, and for a brief moment I consider conceding; I consider turning around and throwing myself at his feet with promises to make him cookies and lemon chiffon every night for the rest of our lives. But I'm spared from the humiliation and the burden of begging Esme for her recipe when he suddenly pushes inside of me, the force of his intrusion pushing me forward and taking my breath away.

"Holy shit," I grunt as I'm forced against the armrest. He grabs my hips and pulls me back against him, holding me steady as he pulls nearly all the way out and pushes back in again.

This is our first time doing it from behind, and I'm a little blown away at how amazing it feels. At how much deeper he is.

"Fuck me, you feel good," he says, mirroring my thoughts.

"Don't stop," I pant as he thrusts into me.

"Hell no."

I wish there was a mirror on the wall. The only thing that would perfect this moment would be if I was able to see him, to watch as he throws his head back and parts his lips, his chest heaving in time to his thrusts.

I feel his fingers in my hair, winding tightly through the strands. I push back against him and try to match his movements. He moves slowly at first, his strokes measured and languid, but at my urging he increases his pace until his hips are literally slamming against me. He reaches around and rubs my clit with his fingers, and with the added sensation I'm thrown into an insensible spiral of pleasure within seconds.

As soon as I come down from my orgasm, he pulls out and urges me onto my back, practically ripping my panties the remainder of the way off my legs before covering my body with his. He kisses me forcefully as he slides inside of me again. My dress is bunched around my waist, nearly at my breasts, and Edward is also fully clothed except where his pants and boxers are pushed down to his knees. Unable to feel his skin, I plant my hands on his neck and in his hair, holding him against me as he thrusts again and again and finally comes undone.

He lays panting on top of me, my legs still wrapped around his waist as we hold each other close.

"I'm sorry," I eventually hear him say, the words muffled against my shoulder as our chests heave together.

"For what?" I ask, confused. That was quite possibly some of the best sex I've ever had, and to hear him apologize for it is a little disconcerting.

He raises his head and kisses my jaw, leading a soft trail to my lips. His kiss is slow and tender. "For being the cause of your bad day," he says. "For being the reason you cried."

"Your dad is the reason I cried, Edward. Not you," I remind him gently.

"You wouldn't have had to put up with my dad if it wasn't for me."

"It's okay," I assure him. "It was worth it. You're worth it. I had to meet him eventually."

He presses his forehead against mine, our noses touching, our lips grazing.

"You really do mean a lot to me, Bella. I keep thinking I'm going to fuck this up, especially after how hesitant you were to even go out with me."

I feel a pang of guilt for resisting him for so long – especially now that we've made so much progress. But it had seemed logical at the time and, in essence, it makes me appreciate him all that much more.

"You mean a lot to me, too," I reply, and I pull his face to mine, kissing him soundly in assurance.

-x-x-

We clean up the dessert – I say a few words on Esme's behalf after we throw it in the trash – and then we watch a movie, lounging and touching and kissing as we simply enjoy being together. Edward and I make love one last time before we fall asleep, his thrusts slow and loving, his kisses tender, and I doze naked in his bed, wrapped in his arms.

But sleep doesn't come easily.

It's raining again, which isn't exceptionally surprising. It seems like it's rained more so than usual, even for Seattle, and it always has a damp, gray feel about the city. The rain comes in gentle waves tonight, easing off and picking back up again over a course of several minutes.

Edward's breathing is steady and deep, so I know he's asleep. I eventually disentangle myself from his arms and silently dress in his discarded clothes, fastening only a few of the buttons on his long-sleeved shirt. Then I make my way downstairs, where I pour myself a glass of water and sneak out into his back sunroom, the throw from his couch in my hand. It's too dark out to see much of the rain, but the sound of the water hitting the glass walls is somewhat soothing.

I sink onto his small, cushioned loveseat and just sit there, still trying to come to terms with everything that happened today. I've never had many problems with my self-confidence – I've always felt comfortable with the way I am, confident that I appeal to at least a good majority of men. But after Carlisle's stabbing remarks, I can't help but wonder what Edward sees in me over Dr. Ellis.

Dr. Ellis, with her perfect body, icy blue eyes, and commercial-worthy hair. Dr. Ellis, with her fancy degree and outstanding talent and reputation. Hospitals would probably fight for her while no one even knows who I am. Lord knows if I went at someone with a knife I'd end up taking their head off, but she does it every day with precision and skill. And she even managed to win the approval of Edward's finicky father, which is a feat all in itself.

She seems like a perfect catch.

So what, exactly, is keeping Edward from choosing her over me?

I don't know how long I sit there thinking, but I eventually hear the door open and see Edward step through, barefoot and wearing only a pair of boxers.

"Bella?" His voice is uncertain, his eyes probably still not adjusted to the light.

"I'm right here," I call out to him. He rubs his arms from the cold and steps over to me. Silly boy, walking around half-naked and looking edible.

"What are you doing out here?" he asks.

"I couldn't sleep."

"Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong," I lie.

"Can I sit with you?"

I nod and he sits next to me on the loveseat, pulling me close. I share the throw with him, but it's so small that it barely covers both of us. His body, however, is warm and comforting.

I sink against him and sigh.

We listen to the rain a few moments, neither of us speaking. Finally, he says, "Are you going to talk to me?"

I sigh again. "It's nothing."

"Please, Bella?" He kisses my forehead. Damn him and his sly little tactics. He probably knows exactly what he's doing.

"I just…" I bite my lip, unsure exactly how to put this. Finally, I say, "I'm sorry your dad didn't like me."

He pulls me tighter against him, almost reflexively. "Bella, please don't think like that," he begs. "I don't care what he thinks. And to be honest, I don't think he likes me very much either." His voice is light, his last statement almost joking. I'm actually inclined to agree with him, but I don't say this.

"He liked your last girlfriend," I say sulkily.

"Well lucky for you, my opinion means more to me."

"You promise?"

"Of course, Bella." Lips find my forehead again.

"My last boyfriend was a doctor," I suddenly blurt out. "Well, we dated while he was in school. He cheated on me when he started his residency. It was with one of his classmates, who was also a doctor…that's one of the reasons why I didn't want to date you at first. It seemed like he changed after he went through school – like the title went to his head or something – and I thought you guys were all the same. I was worried."

Edward is silent for a moment, and all I can hear is the smattering of rain against the windows. "You still think that?" he asks.

"Not with you," I assure him. "I think it changes a lot of people, but not you. Not your mom. And some people are just like that anyway, I think. Like that nurse in the ICU. But doctors are treated so special that I think of lot of them let it go to their heads. But so far, you've been different." I snuggle closer to him and add, "I don't worry anymore."

Edward tightens his hold on me, as if seeking the same closeness that I crave.

"Well, I'm lucky," he says seriously. "I grew up around my mom more than my dad. He was never around much, really. And she always taught me _not _to act the way he did. I'd actually be pretty interested to see him in the doghouse right now, because she's the one person he actually _attempts _to listen to, believe it or not," he says with a soft chuckle. As an afterthought, he jokingly adds, "Plus, now I have you here to put me in my place whenever I get out of line."

I smile against his chest, suddenly feeling lighter than I have in weeks. "Damn right you do."

* * *

A/N: Thanks to the usual ms-ambrosia and passionmama, and thanks for the reviews and the recs! I love hearing your thoughts.

Next chapter should be within 2 weeks. I'll tweet about it if it's gonna be longer.

I'm **mybluesky1 **on twitter for teasers and updates.

xo


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

-x-x-x-x-

**Chapter 17 - The Urge **

Edward and I double date with Alice and Jasper at the _Musiquarium Lounge_ _of The Triple Door_ on Saturday. It's a nice venue with live music, good food, and plentiful drinks; the only reason I've never eaten here before is because of its hefty price combined with my historically thin funds, but tonight Edward brought me here without revealing the location in another attempt to surprise me. The only thing he asked was if I minded if Jasper and Alice came, too.

We slide into a booth towards the side of the room. It comfortably seats four people. The place is classier than I expected, and I'm glad I wore a black dress instead of the slacks I had debated. I have Alice to thank, however, because I called her and she gave me very strict instructions on what to wear. This obviously isn't her first time coming here.

The band is already playing when we sit down. Alice sits so close to Jasper that she's practically in his lap.

She leans over and asks me what I'm drinking. We're sitting beside each other, with the men on the outside, so it's easy for us to hear each other over the music. "I'm feeling like a dirty martini," she says.

"I hate olives." I shake my head as I peruse the drink menu. "Maybe a lemon martini?"

Jasper orders brandy, much to my chagrin. I try not to make a face as the server sets it on the table. The width of Alice's body isn't enough to keep the smell at bay, or perhaps I'm now hypersensitive to the stench.

Edward rubs my thigh as if he knows what I'm thinking. Alice sees this despite the dim lights in the room and says, "You guys are so cute together."

"You're one to talk." Cute probably isn't the best word to describe Alice and Jasper, however; they're so blatantly inappropriate with their affection, even in public, that you often can't look directly at them without puking in your mouth a little. They're kind of like the sun on a clear day, but with more bile involved.

"Please. I _know _we're cute."

The band is great. They work the crowd with ease, effortlessly making us all feel like part of the show. They're a local group – generally unheard of – but that just makes it more intimate. When it's over, the members stand near the bar or meander through the crowd, talking to fans, drinking, and taking pictures.

Alice introduces herself to the tall bassist she gushed over during the show and gets me to take their picture with her cell phone. It's so dark that it doesn't turn out well, but she's too drunk to notice. We move outside. Pre-recorded music can be heard faintly in the parking lot, and Alice grabs my arm and dances us around ballroom style, our heels crunching and fumbling over loose gravel in the lot. When I awkwardly dip her backwards – and manage not to drop us both on the ground – Edward and Jasper and a few other drunk bystanders clap and cheer.

A slower song comes on. I don't think it's romantic or anything, but I can't hear the words to be sure. Edward doesn't care. He pulls me to him and wraps his arms around me. His warmth feels good in the chilly parking lot and I tug his lips to mine, kissing him slowly while we rock back and forth to the music. Everything else fades away in that moment.

When he finally pulls back, he uses his thumb to wipe beneath my eye. Probably clearing away smudged makeup. Somehow, someway, it always smudges when I drink. Then he gently kisses where he wiped and says, "You're so fucking gorgeous."

That's the first time I really get the urge. Three little words hang on my tongue, just waiting to fall out and change everything. Their presence is unexpected, and in my surprise I swallow them back. It's probably too soon, and while I'm not plastered, I've certainly been drinking. Something this life altering shouldn't be placed in the hands of lemon-flavored martinis.

I don't know if there are rules associated with the words. I don't know if they have to follow a grand gesture or romantic dinner. I don't know if there should be candles or a blazing hearth. When Alec first said them, it was like they just slipped out accidentally. He looked at me in surprise and then said, "It's true, you know." And we just said it to each other ever since like it was natural.

The cab pulls up a minute later, and the opportunity is lost. Edward sits up front by the balding driver who can't stop coughing, and I'm crammed by the window in the back next to the grossly affectionate couple who can't stop groping. It probably isn't the right time, after all.

-x-x-

Carlisle was consulted on one of my patients. The consult is for a revision of a graft, which is precisely what I told Esme I never see him do, but apparently he put this one in several years ago before he became too good to do anything below open hearts. I spend the majority of the morning paranoid that he's going to show up ask me to round with him, quite like the way he showed up on Thursday and asked for Aro. I pour over the patient's chart and old records, making sure I know every tiny detail of their life in case he tries to ask me something and call me out on my insufficient knowledge. But in the end, it doesn't even matter, because his P.A. rounds instead.

His P.A. is a small woman with chin-length blonde hair and a lab coat that stretches past her knees. She's perky and nice and even helps me reposition the patient when he complains of being uncomfortable. She tells him that Dr. Cullen may be by to see him tonight after his other surgeries, but otherwise he'll see him in pre-op before the procedure tomorrow morning.

She writes an order to make the patient NPO past midnight and to give Zinacef on-call to the OR. She smiles before she leaves and wishes me a good day. I can't help but wonder if Carlisle would mind Edward dating her, or if her occupation is too inferior as well, but then I stop myself before the thoughts can really begin. I'm curious, but that type of thinking is pointless.

A plastic surgeon by the name of Dr. Black comes by later. He has dark skin, graying black hair, and a blindingly white smile. His glances are always suggestive despite the fact that he's married to an endocrinologist. This seems to be of little consequence to Jessica, however, for she hangs on every word he says and laughs at all his cheesy jokes. He makes lots of references to movies, most of which I don't understand, but Jessica effortlessly steers him away from _High Noon_ by asking him how many boob jobs he does in an average week, and whether or not he agrees that liposuction is a good idea.

I don't think being a plastic surgeon is nearly as glamorous as it seems. Especially in Seattle, or most places besides LA, for that matter. A lot of their surgeries consist of debriding pressure ulcer wounds, in which they go in and scrape away the rotten tissue until there's only viable, healthy tissue remaining. Today, for example, Dr. Black is making rounds on a patient who allowed her butt lift to get infected by not changing her feces-soiled dressing. She now has a long incision along each butt cheek that's oozing something that resembles the inside of a rotten cantaloupe and smells like death after three weeks in the sun.

Always tactful, Emmett had scoffed and nudged me, saying, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure she won't be shaking her new ass in the club anytime soon, huh?"

Dr. Black leaves, but I eventually meet him in the stairwell when I'm on my way to lunch. I'm passing the door to the second floor when it suddenly opens and he joins me.

"Hi," he says politely.

"Hi."

He follows closely behind as I continue making my way down the stairs.

"You're Bella, right?" he asks. Our one and only prior conversation was so brief that I'm surprised he remembers my name.

"Yeah. And you're Dr. Black, right?"

"Right. How's Ms. Holloway?"

"About the same." No less oozy than usual.

"You getting lunch?"

"Yep. You?"

"Yep."

I'm not a fan of the strained conversation, so I'm relieved when we exit the stairwell and step out into the open hallway. We walk a little ways before the hallway splits in two directions – one goes towards the cafeteria, the other towards the doctor's lounge. Unfortunately, we're both on the wrong side and nearly collide as we try to turn in opposite directions towards each other.

Dr. Black grabs my shoulders to steady me, smiles his blinding smile, and says, "Sorry. My fault. I'm actually eating in the doctor's lounge today."

All these damn doctors with their cool badges and awesome coffee. Again, not that I'm jealous.

"That's cool," I say with a smile. "I would too. You guys have the cool coffee maker and all that."

"You're seeing Dr. Cullen, right?" he asks suddenly, and I'm taken by surprise.

"Ummm…right." I don't know what else to say. It's no secret that news travels fast, especially around here. I wonder if he and Edward are friends. Edward's never mentioned him.

"I could get you some coffee if you want," he offers.

"Really?" I say hopefully, and then I try to tone down my excitement just a bit. "I mean…I don't want to get you in trouble…"

"Nah, it's no trouble. Come on." He leads me down the hall. I get a brief wave of nostalgia as we approach the white door – as he swipes his name tag – and I can't help but think, just a tiny little bit, that I'm cheating on Edward with coffee.

Is it possible to cheat with coffee? Or is it just the fact that I'm getting coffee with another doctor? Would that be 'frowned upon' by a hard-core relationship-er? Edward gets me coffee most days he works, but that's not to say I can't get coffee when he's not here, right?

Dr. Black pushes open the door and leads me inside. There are other doctors here today, all sitting around the tables talking while they eat, but none of them pay us any attention as we enter. I see Dr. Byers in the corner, but he doesn't even look up.

Dr. Black gestures to the machine. "Make whatever you like. I'd offer to help, but that machine is like rocket science."

I wonder if he's ever tried to make coffee here, because it's really not that hard. It's kind of funny that he's supposedly able to reconstruct a person's face, yet he refuses to grasp the simple knowledge of throwing a packet into the coffee machine and hitting a clearly-labeled button.

I make my coffee while he drifts away to the salad bar. There's hot food set out today, each dish covered by metal lids with steam seeping around the corners. I also spot a little rack filled with wrapped hamburgers and french fries. I wonder if the food in here tastes any better than the stuff served in the cafeteria.

No one bothers me while I make my coffee. I inconspicuously take a picture of it with my cell phone and send it to Edward, with the text: _Coffee ggooooddd._ Admitting to my coffee splurge without him makes me feel just a little bit better.

I walk over to Dr. Black to say goodbye and thank him again.

"No problem, Bella. I'm sure I'll see you around soon."

I'm just about to turn and make my escape when I see the door open, and the unmistakable flash of red hair catches my eye as Dr. Ellis enters the room. She's dressed in baby-blue scrubs and a white lab coat, and her hair is long and wavy at her sides.

I fruitlessly try to hide behind Dr. Black, but it's no use. My Smurf-blue scrubs give me away in an instant.

"Bella?" Dr. Ellis pauses to look at me, her expression confused. I act like I'm just as surprised to see her, which is kind of ridiculous considering this is the doctor's lounge. She has every right to be here.

"Oh hey, Dr. Ellis! How are you?"

She smirks a little. "I'm fine, Bella. Is Edward working today?"

Wouldn't she like to know.

"No, Dr. Black was just nice enough to let me get a cup of coffee." I gesture to the cup in my hands to prove my point.

She gives Dr. Black the once-over and says, "Oh, I see."

"I was actually just leaving." I try to move past her, but she has the nerve to actually shift and block my way.

"Wait a second, Bella. I actually wanted to ask you… how are things?"

I step back again, putting a suitable foot of space between us. "What do you mean?"

"With Edward. You guys are official now, right? Not that it's any of my business, really, but I haven't had a chance to talk to him lately. I just know how much he liked you."

This pleases me to no end, even though she's right. It's none of her business. But what the hell? She's practically asking me to rub it in her face…

"We're great, actually. Couldn't be better." Like Fred and Wilma, Barbie and Ken, two peas in a freakin' pod…

Her smile is actually kind. "That's good. He's a great guy."

"Yeah, he is."

"Well, I guess I'll see you around."

That's it?

"Sure."

I leave the lounge, swiping a few mints on my way out. Dr. Ellis's words stay with me as I make my way back down the hall towards the cafeteria, and in the end I reach one sound conclusion.

That was friggin' weird.

-x-x-

Edward never texts me back, and I don't find out until later that it's because he was asleep. And he was asleep because he apparently came down with some kind of bug last night. He has a fever, he's fatigued, and he was up half the night hacking up his left lung – or so I gathered by his extremely vague description.

The shit-storm occurs at shift change and I get off work later than usual. I still stop by the store and buy canned soup, those tissues soaked with Aloe Vera, Gatorade, and cold medicine. I wonder what Edward does when he gets sick – if there's a doctor he sees. Alec would always try to diagnose himself, whether it was a pulled muscle or a stomach bug, but in the end he would go see a doctor anyway and complain that they overlooked something once they disagreed with his own analysis.

There's a flower pot with a half-wilted plant on Edward's porch - it's obvious he doesn't take care of the thing – and a key to his house is hidden underneath, which I use it to let myself inside. He'd told me not to come over – that he just wanted to rest – but I obviously ignored him. I just want to make sure he has the things he needs, since he lives alone and going out when you're sick can be a real chore. Hopefully, I won't get in too much trouble.

The house is silent when I enter. I see the TV on in the living room, but the volume is turned down low. I sneak to the kitchen to unload my groceries, trying to be as quiet as possible, but Edward hears me anyway.

"Bella?" His voice sounds strained, and surprisingly close. I turn around and jump when I see him standing in the doorway of the kitchen. His hair's a mess, he has dark circles under his eyes, and he's wearing a wrinkled t-shirt and green pajama pants. He's also frowning. "What are you doing?"

"I brought you stuff," I say, gesturing to my supplies. "What are _you _doing? Shouldn't you be resting?"

"I've been resting."

I walk forward and press a hand to his cheek. It's hot, not surprisingly. "I swear, doctors make the worst patients. Go lie down."

"I'm gonna get you sick."

"I'll take my chances."

"I'm serious, Bella."

"So am I. Now go lie down and stop giving me a hard time."

He glares at me briefly before leaving the room. I actually brought a mask from work just in case he had enough energy to be persistent, because there's no way I'm leaving before making sure he's comfortable.

I peek into the living room to see him slumped down on the couch, his body partially hidden by that flimsy throw and a few couch pillows.

"Have you taken anything?" I ask.

"It's probably just a cold, Bella. It'll go away on its own and I'll be fine."

"That's not what I asked."

"I took some Tylenol earlier," he relents with a sigh.

"How long ago?"

"Around two o'clock, I think."

"Have you eaten?"

"Not lately."

"You hungry?"

"No."

I take his temperature, despite his protests. I jokingly threaten to call Emmett over so he can hold him down while I take it rectally. That just earns me more glares. His temperature is 101.2.

When I fill a cup with cold medicine, Edward finally seems to soften. "You're a cute nurse," he says, nodding towards my outfit. It's the scrubs I wore to work and certainly nothing out of a sexual fantasy. Unless it's some type of twisted Smurf fantasy, at least, but I shudder at the thought.

"You're just now noticing?" I joke.

"I noticed the first time I saw you."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Dr. Cullen. I already like you." I hand him the cup. "Take this," I instruct. He throws it back with one swallow, like a shot of alcohol.

He hands it back to me and says, "Who got you coffee?"

"Dr. Black."

"I didn't know you were friends with him."

"I'm not. He was seeing one of my patients today and I mentioned the coffee, and he offered to get me some. He basically just let me inside the lounge so I could make it."

"Isn't he married?" Edward inquires.

"I think so," I answer, recalling the endocrinologist that's supposedly his wife. There's also a poster on the wall at the hospital I've recently discovered that has a list of physicians with similar last names, along with their pictures. Dr. Black is on there, as well as another female Dr. Black with the same dark hair and skin. Carlisle, Esme, and Edward are also on there – all being listed as 'Dr. Cullen,' of course. "Why?" I ask curiously.

Edward shrugs. "Just wondering," he answers, and then he has a sudden coughing fit. I rub his back until it subsides and ask him again if he's hungry, which he again denies despite not eating all day, and then I ask him if he wants to go to his bedroom to lie down. He shakes his head and, after I force him to drink some Gatorade, I get some blankets from his bed and tuck him in on the couch.

"You don't have to stay here," he tells me.

"You can't get rid of me that easily," I say, kissing his forehead. "Can I use your shower?" He just nods.

I disappear down the hall and slip into his master bathroom. Gosh, I love his shower. It's like the shower of gods, with all its nozzles and the perfect little bench to accommodate my lazy ass. I sit down the whole time I wash, and at one point I even prop my feet on the opposite wall like the slug I am.

Of course, Edward chooses that exact moment to poke his head in. I straighten so quickly I nearly give myself whiplash.

"What are you doing?" I scold. "You're supposed to be resting!" I stand and try to push him out, but he bypasses those attempts and slips past me. Sweet Jesus, he's naked.

"I haven't had a shower today," he whines, immediately easing beneath the running water. His arms are covered in chill bumps and his face is flushed and tired. If he wasn't being such an annoying patient, he'd be kind of cute.

"Are you always like this when you're sick?" I ask, pretending to be irritated.

"Like what?"

"Hardheaded."

"I'm not hardheaded," he pouts. "I'll just rest better after a shower. And I wanted to be with you."

Kill me with cuteness, why don't you.

"You said you didn't want me here," I remind him.

"I didn't want you catching my germs. Now that you've exposed yourself, you're fair game."

"Well, here…at least sit down." I twist him until we've swapped places and push on his shoulders, urging him to sit on the bench. He does so with little effort. I grab the detachable showerhead and use it to spray water down his neck and back, and he closes his eyes and moans in appreciation.

"Hold your head back," I instruct, and when he does I run the water through his hair, pushing the wet strands back with my hand and trailing my fingers over his forehead and down his face.

I turn to grab the washcloth and Edward says, "Do you give all your patients sponge baths this way?" His voice sounds strained from all the coughing, but I'm almost certain there's a suggestive undertone hidden in there somewhere.

"Only when they're good," I reply. I pour some of his liquid heaven onto the cloth and lather it up, greedily sneaking in a sniff or five. "When they're bad, I get Emmett."

Edward chortles. Then he has another coughing fit. I pat his back gently and stand out of the way.

"So I've been good?" he finally asks.

"You're teetering the line, but so far you're in the clear."

I lather up his back first, trailing my fingers across his smooth skin. His face is leveled with my stomach. When I step closer, he presses a soft kiss below my navel while his hands travel up my thighs, coming to rest on my bottom. If he weren't sick, I'd crawl into his lap and have my way with him. It's still kind of tempting, but nothing ruins the mood quite like a hack in the face.

He rests his forehead against my stomach while I trail soap over his shoulders. I slip my hand between us to get to his chest. He's tired, I can tell, yet he wants to be in here with me. I take my time, feeling him everywhere. I press my fingers into his muscles to try and ease the ache of his sickness, and his appreciation is expressed in soft sighs. I could touch him like this all day and never tire.

-x-x-

After the shower, I talk Edward into eating some soup. I have to make it from a can because I'm terrible at creating things more complicated than pancakes and spaghetti, and I don't have any recipes anyway. He doesn't complain. He wears a t-shirt and his hair, which is already beginning to dry, sticks up in complete disarray thanks to my inability to stop touching him.

I bought myself a can of raviolis at the store. I heat up my food and sit across from him at the kitchen table, propping my feet on either side of his legs on his chair. I can tell when the medication kicks in, because Edward perks up a little and has more of an appetite. He's also more talkative, and the hand he's not using to eat lightly caresses up and down my bare calf.

"How was your day?" he asks me between mouthfuls.

"It was fine. I actually talked to Dr. Ellis." I say this hesitantly, wondering if I should even bring her up. But the subject doesn't have to be taboo. The tension that surrounds it is probably all in my head.

Edward glances at me. "What did you talk about?"

"We compared notes," I tease. Then I instantly feel stupid for saying that. Damn mouth. "No, we just bumped into each other and she asked how things were. It was nothing. She was actually kind of… nice."

Edward doesn't seem surprised. "She's a nice person, Bella. You'd probably like her."

"Yeah. Maybe." My voice isn't convincing.

"She likes you," he offers.

"Why do you think that?"

"She told me so."

"She doesn't know me." And she's probably lying.

"She doesn't have to know the story of your life to like you."

"It helps. Otherwise, she doesn't even know what she likes."

"Maybe she just likes you because I like you."

Now that's hilarious. Apparently she didn't relay the conversation we had at the baseball game to him. I think it was pretty obvious who she favored in the situation.

"You don't think she still has a thing for you?" I question skeptically.

"It doesn't matter. We didn't work out and she's moved past it. She's not the kind of person who dwells on what could never be."

I sigh. "I think you give people too much credit."

"Some people deserve the benefit of the doubt, Bella." There's almost an underlying chastisement to his tone, but I let it go.

"Anyway, my day was pretty uneventful besides that," I tell him, eager to change the subject. "But that's not including the part where I gave a sponge bath to a cute doctor, of course."

Edward looks up from his soup, the corner of his lips turning up in a smile. "I knew you think I'm cute."

"Even cuter with your glasses."

"Maybe I'll wear them during the next bath," he tempts me, smiling devilishly.

There it is again. The urge. From out of nowhere, the words threaten to leave my lips and alter our relationship as we know it.

I don't say anything. I look down at my ravioli and pretend to be invested in slicing a piece in half. It's hard work, slicing this ravioli. He finally coughs and pushes his bowl away. I see chunks of chicken and noodle left in the bottom of the dish.

"It still hurts to swallow," he explains, and I nod.

"Do you want me to get you some broth?"

"No, I'm full." I can't tell if he's lying. He looks at me, suddenly vulnerable. "Are you staying here tonight?" His voice is so hopeful. For someone who didn't want me to come over, he sure is intent on making sure I stay.

"Like you could get rid of me that easily," I reply, and he doesn't attempt to hide the small smile that follows.

"Thank you."

I love you.

"You're welcome."

* * *

A/N: Thanks to the usual ms-ambrosia and passionmama for all they do. I hope to update within the next two weeks, I'll tweet about it when I know for sure. Sorry I've been twitter fail lately...apparently Santa gave me pneumonia for Christmas this year and I've barely had the energy to breathe this last week, much less tweet. Boo.

I'm **mybluesky1 **on twitter if you want to follow.

Happy Holidays! xo


	19. Chapter Eighteen

A/N: This chapter is about 95% fluff and 5% plot development. You have been warned.

Happy New Year!

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

-x-x-x-x-

**Chapter 18 - So Perfect**

"He really likes you, you know."

Dr. Hale pauses abruptly, her icy blue eyes flickering to mine. They're narrowed suspiciously, and, if I had to wager, I'd bet they're exactly how Ted Bundy's eyes looked immediately before bludgeoning his victims to death. Probably not the smoothest move on my part.

"What did you just say?" she asks icily.

Note to self: never remind Dr. Hale of her relationship – or lack thereof – with Emmett while she's bitching about him not being able to do his job. But in my defense, she was being a bit harsh. She wouldn't be so angry if she weren't carrying around a massive grudge due to his inability to man up and treat her how she deserves. She may have no clue how he really feels.

And why is it any of my business?

"I was just saying that he likes you," I repeat cautiously. I have an urge to run like hell, never looking back, but my ass might as well be glued to the chair for all the progress I'm making on that endeavor.

There's no one at the nurses station but us. Not necessarily a quiet day – the other nurses are busy with their patients and Jessica has run off doing God knows what. She's never around when she's needed, nor when the station is lacking cute male doctors. They're the only thing that'll lure her out of her little snake hole and tempt her back to where she belongs. Kate is in a meeting, I think, and it's otherwise just a rare moment when no one else is around. Dr. Hale stopped me as I was passing through to help her find out if a medication has been given.

"Oh really," she says shortly. She begins forcefully flipping through her patient's chart. "Well, if he likes me so much, tell him to keep my patient alive and give him his antibiotic in this goddang century."

"Okay. You want me to tell him anything else?"

"No, that's all."

"Are you sure? I can give him a personal message if you like."

"Fine. Tell him to quit acting like a child and talk to me if he has something to say. And to not send you to give his messages."

"Oh no, he didn't send me," I assure her. "He'd probably be pissed off, actually. I'm clearly putting my nose where it doesn't belong."

Dr. Hale glances at me, still suspicious. "And why are you doing that?"

"I don't know…" The question of the year, maybe? Why the hell do I even care? Emmett's worse than I am with his relationship woes. Possibly hopeless, but giving a little nudge of help in his favor couldn't hurt. "He seems kind of clueless," I say finally.

"Thank you!" She slams her hand down on the table. Her outburst is almost startling.

"I just wanted to help. It's really not my place," I go on. Yes, I at least have the decency to feel a little ashamed at intruding on their problems.

"No, you're fine." She waves off my half-assed apology. "He needs someone who can talk some sense into him. So what did he say about me?"

"Oh, um…nothing. I can just tell he really likes you."

"That's it?"

"Yes."

"Well what's his problem? Can you tell me that?"

"Uhh…no. Emmett remains an enigma to every healthcare professional in existence." Yes, that's a lie…well, the first part, at least. But it's definitely not my place to tell her everything Emmett told me. Talk about abusing his trust. And it's always better to stay on Emmett's good side, because he's just mean and slightly annoying otherwise.

"No kidding," she quickly agrees, sighing. She shakes her head despondently. "You know, we should go get drinks or something one night."

"Drinks?" Not gonna lie, I'm surprised.

"Sure. I mean, Edward and I are friends and he really likes you. And you seem to be pretty good friends with Emmett and Irina talked about you a while back, too. We seem to like a lot of the same people, so you never know… it could be fun."

"You're friends with Irina?"

"Oh yeah, Irina's my girl. I can ask her to come, too."

"Yeah, that'd be cool. I haven't seen her in a while."

Emmett walks into the nurses station and our conversation halts suddenly. He purposefully avoids us, never even glancing in our direction, and after a moment Dr. Hale loudly clears her throat. When he doesn't respond she rudely says, "Excuse me, Mr. McCarty, but I need five of your precious seconds."

This gets his attention. He walks over to us, clearly annoyed, and stands in front of the table with his arms crossed. "Yes, Dr. Hale?" he says with mock sweetness.

"Why haven't you given Mr. Varner his antibiotic I ordered two hours ago?" she demands.

"He went off the floor for the CAT scan youordered."

"Well obviously he's back, seeing as how I have his chart in my hand."

"Then _obviously_ I'm going to give him his antibiotic."

"It's not _obvious_, because you're standing in front of me instead of doing it."

"What am I, fucking Cujo?" His eyes are ablaze with irritation. "The only thing _obvious_ hereis that you're being a narcissistic crazy person and need to get off your goddamn power trip."

The call light rings. I get up to answer it, leaving these two to their lover's quarrel. It's kind of amusing to watch, but someone's got to work around here. The phone rings while I'm answering the call light, and by time I'm done talking to the caller, I turn around to find the nurses station empty, save for Jessica who's strolling back with a bag of Bugles in one hand, the chips stuck on the tips of her fingers like goddamn Freddy Krueger. She looks a little like him too, if he had frizzy white hair and you squinted real hard.

"Where'd Emmett go?" I ask her. It wouldn't surprise me if she blew me off because she's normally highly annoyed by anything I ask, no matter how relevant of a question it may be. But she surprises me by shrugging and eating a Bugle off her finger.

"He was going down the hall with Dr. Hale. Probably seeing a patient."

My eyes probably bug out of my head as I lean across the counter, trying to spot them. They're nowhere to be seen. The door to the janitor's closet is securely closed.

Jesus Murphy-loving Christ, someone stab my eyes out with a rusty scalpel. I think I just witnessed foreplay.

-x-x-

I push Edward against the linen cart, practically attacking his neck with my mouth. He's slightly tense, but it doesn't stop the moan from escaping or the bulge from forming. I slip my fingers beneath his shirt and rub the smooth skin of his stomach, reveling in the way he feels beneath my hands.

"Someone could walk in," he breathes, a slight edge to his voice. But he leans down right afterwards and catches my lips with his, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

"We'll hear them," I promise. There's another door that has to be opened before reaching the door to the linen room, so we should get at least a two second warning if someone is coming. Is that enough time to do anything? Probably not. Do I really care? Definitely not.

Edward arrived to work shortly before I did, but neither of us have had time to sneak off to the on-call room like I suggested. And it's painful, being without him. He refused to even kiss me on the lips the whole four days he was sick, and last night he went to his parent's house to help Esme unload things from the attic and I decided not to go. He didn't really try to persuade me. He understood.

But now my craving for him is almost painful, which is why I caught up to him in the hallway and tugged him into the linen room. He didn't resist, but simply followed me with a bemused expression. I don't think he was expecting me to attack him like a depraved animal. I'm clearly out of control.

But he's not really complaining now – or at least his body isn't. He kisses me back with equal fervor, his hands brushing my breasts through the fabric of my scrubs. I slip my hand into his pants and wrap my fingers around his cock, the stretchy waistband of his scrubs giving me plenty of room to move around. He groans and spins us around, pushing me into the linen cart instead, and the metal rails against my back are uncomfortable but not unwelcome. His lips move from my mouth to my neck and I tilt my face to the side to give him greater access. The sexual tension is mounting to epic proportions.

We suddenly hear the first door open, and both of us freeze. Then we spring to life, cursing and ripping away from each other at an ungodly speed.

"Get behind the cart!" I hiss as I grab the sides and wheel it from the wall. It makes more sense – he really has no reason to be in here. I, on the other hand, come in here for linen all the time.

He follows my instructions without hesitation. There's really no time to hesitate. A second later, the door opens and someone begins to gracelessly shove a metal cart through. It's the cart that's left in the hallway, one that's filled with linen so we don't have to make such a long walk to this room from the other end of the floor. I smooth my hair back into place before moving to hold the door open, nearly groaning when I see Jessica steering the cart inside. She doesn't thank me for the help, but smacks her gum annoyingly and spares me a brief glance. I'm surprised we didn't hear the gum smacking from down the hallway.

"What are you doing?" I ask with some alarm, appalled that she's choosing now, of all times, to come back here.

"I'm filling the linen cart, what does it look like I'm doing?" She rolls her eyes.

"I'll do it," I offer quickly. Too quickly, I gather, because she narrows her eyes at me suspiciously.

"I can do it myself."

I wonder if she saw me come in here with Edward and is intervening on purpose. The cart is pulled so far from the wall that it looks suspicious in itself, and she eyes it with interest.

"You need to be answering the phone," I argue.

"Kate is out there."

"It's not Kate's job."

"She said it was okay."

"I'm trying to make a private phone call." My lies sound desperate.

"Did you ask Kate? Cause that's not allowed." Her voice is smug, almost taunting. She opens the drawers and begins slowly puling linen from the racks, neatly lining them in the cart.

"Yes, I asked Kate," I lie with a huff. I begin snatching up sheets, blankets, and towels and literally throw them in the cart. What else can I do? I can't very well leave Edward in here alone. Who knows how many people will die waiting on Jessica's slow ass to fill this cart. She looks like she's going to complain at my sloppy haste, but surprisingly doesn't. She huffs and smacks her gum harder.

Then a pager starts going off. _Fuck my life_, I hate his goddamn pager. Jessica looks at me, surprised at first, then she shakes her head in disbelief. She gives me a look that clearly says she isn't stupid, but I still think that's debatable. I worry for a brief moment that she's going to pull the cart out and reveal Edward. I know the secret's out now, but he was sporting a boner worthy of Playgirl that's even more pronounced in his flimsy scrubs and, let's face, that's a little bit of an eye-catcher. I imagine he can't possibly still be completely hard, but if I catch Jessica ogling his dong I just might scratch her eyes out. It's better to spare her vision and get her out of here.

It takes me a total of about fifteen seconds to throw so much linen in the cart that the drawers are overflowing. She rolls her eyes again, annoyed, but begins pulling the cart back out of the room. I hold the door open and usher her along.

"Thanks for your help," she says sarcastically. Then, looking straight at me, she calls out, "Bye, Dr. Cullen. Or at least, I should hope it's Dr. Cullen." She cocks a questioning eyebrow at me, ignoring my glare, and disappears out the door.

I sigh in irritation before walking to the side of the cart to see Edward. He's crammed between the wall and the cart, checking his pager. He looks equally annoyed.

"Well that worked out well," he says irritably.

"She did that on purpose," I argue. "She knew you were in here. She's jealous, too. Wants something she can't have." I cross my arms and Edward cocks a curious eyebrow.

"Is that so?" He re-clips his pager to his pocket.

I squeeze into the tight space, pressing my body against his and sliding my hand around his neck. I stand on my toes and pull him down to me, kissing him soundly, and I sense his irritation dissipate as he moans and melts into my touch. His hand slips behind me and into my pants and he squeezes my bare bum, pulling me against him as he does so. I can feel him getting hard again. He pulls away with a breathless sigh.

"I've got to go," he says, kissing me again quickly.

"I don't want you to go," I pout.

"I have to. I need to answer this." He gestures towards his pager. I sigh and move from behind the cart, putting unwanted space between us. It's for the best, because we both need to work and Kate could be coming back here at any moment to investigate. I'm an adult; I can control my hormones.

I think.

"Fine," I mumble. I'm clearly displeased. Edward pushes the cart back against the wall and then grabs my hand, pulling me to him and kissing me one last time. It's insistent, his tongue pushing into my mouth almost forcefully, and I can feel myself getting worked up all over again. When he finally pulls away, I'm panting.

"Stay with me tonight," he whispers.

"Okay." God, I'm desperate.

He smiles and kisses my forehead, then reaches down his pants and readjusts himself. His hard-on isn't obvious anymore and man, that was hot.

"I've got to go," he says again. "I miss you already." He doesn't give me a chance to respond, but slips out the door and leaves me by myself. I'm sorely disappointed. I'm not sure what I expected to happen in here, but all I succeeded in doing was getting us both worked up to the point of torture. No one should have to work this way.

I grab some blankets so I'm not completely obvious and, after waiting the standard two minutes or so, I make my way out of the room. There's no one in the hallway that I can see. Edward is sitting at the nurses station on the phone, probably returning the page, and his hair is in obvious disarray from my antics. He glances at me when I walk by and yeah, he looks a little sexually frustrated. Glad I'm not the only one.

I check my watch. Six more hours until I get off.

_Great._

Edward is supposed to get off in about an hour, but he seems busy and will probably stay late. He usually does, anyway. I go into a patient's room and when I come out, he's gone. I'm disappointed, but maybe he simply didn't have time to wait on me to come back.

About three hours pass and I don't hear from him. I'm still wound up tight, however, literally counting down the minutes until I can leave this place. I picture different scenarios of how I plan to assault him upon entering his house, each one more tempting than the last.

Then I get a text.

_Meet me in the on-call room?_

Holy Jesus-on-call-room-loving-Christ.

_I'll be there in five._

I don't even hesitate before walking up to Alice. "I need you to watch my team," I tell her. She eyes me curiously.

"Why?"

"I'm going downstairs for a few minutes."

She looks like she wants to say something, but eventually she just smirks and nods. It's not like she's never sneaked off to be with Jasper. Those two are insatiable and clearly not ones to judge.

I give her the crappiest report ever and walk briskly to the stairwell, then stupidly try to jog the four flights up to the top. I was too impatient to wait on the elevator, and now I'm huffing and wheezing like I'm having an asthma attack. Any working out I do is obviously useless if I can't make it up a few flights of stairs without wanting to pass out. When I reach the door I double over to catch my breath, wondering if I should knock or call him on his cell phone. What if there's another doctor in there?

Edward must have heard me – my footsteps, hopefully, and not my wheezing – because the door suddenly swings open. He looks at me briefly, puzzled, and pulls me inside.

"Did you sprint the whole way up?" he asks, obviously amused.

"Maybe," I pant. "I didn't think I was that out of-" I don't finish my statement, because Edward's lips are suddenly on mine and I'm shoved somewhat roughly against the door. Yes, someone was definitely sexually frustrated. I'm in a daze, still trying to catch my breath as Edward pulls my pants down and kneels in front of me. He pulls off my shoe and gets one pant leg over my foot before propping my foot on his shoulder, spreading my lips, and licking slowly between my legs. My eyes roll back and my head hits the door with a bang. I hold his hair with one hand for support, because it's all I can easily reach, while my other arm splays out against the wall behind me.

"Jesus," I mutter loudly. I'm tense from being worked up all day and overly sensitive to his touch. I nearly lose my mind when he slides a finger inside of me, and he strokes slowly while his thumb massages my clit.

He eventually pulls his hand away and helps me remove my pants. I step out of them while he stands, his hands traveling up my body, his lips meeting the skin of my neck.

"Do you have any idea what you did to me today?" he asks. He nips my skin lightly with his teeth, causing me to gasp. "I couldn't stop thinking about you. About this." His fingers slip between my legs again and I moan, shoving his pants down just enough to free his cock. I grasp it immediately, applying pressure and sliding my hand down its length.

He grips my hips tightly and lifts me from the floor. I wrap my legs around his waist and hold onto his shoulders securely, kissing him hard as he walks me towards the couch and sits down with me in his lap. I position his cock beneath me and sink down onto him immediately, thanking the little pill gods that we don't have to use a condom anymore. He places his hands on my hips but allows me to set the pace, his hips thrusting up slightly to match my movements. His head falls back and his eyes close, and I kiss his neck, relishing the taste of his skin, the feel of his body beneath me as I move against him again and again.

"God, you feel incredible," he murmurs, and I close my lips over his, moaning into his mouth in response.

"So incredible," I agree. "I couldn't stop thinking about you. About things I wanted to do to you. So glad you didn't make me wait…"

"Fuck, Bella." He shifts against me, his hips hitting mine hard, his cock filling me completely. He wraps his arms around me and buries his face into my shoulder as he thrusts upwards, matching my movements and pushing more deeply inside. I cry out when his thumb rubs my clit, already so close to the edge from the hours of tension, and it feels like I'm losing control in no time. Edward holds me to him while I ride out my orgasm, never slowing or altering his thrusts, and he pulls my mouth to his and kisses me passionately while he tenses and spills inside of me.

He eventually stills and I rest against him, both of us trying to catch our breaths. His hold on me hasn't loosened. I finally pull away, slowly climbing off of him.

"I have to get back to work," I say regretfully. I'm also a little paranoid that someone could walk in on us. Not enough to stop acting like a whore in heat, obviously, but still.

Edward nods and kisses me. I go to the bathroom to clean up, and when I come out he's waiting for me like he's going to walk me out.

"You about to leave?" I wonder, and he nods.

"Yeah, I'm finally done."

"I'll say."

He smirks. "Are you still coming over?"

"Do you still want me to?"

He kisses my forehead, then grabs my hand to lead me out of the lounge.

"Of course I do, Bella."

-x-x-

It's six-forty in the morning, but my cell phone is ringing. No one calls me this early unless they're bleeding or dying. I'm never even awake this early if I don't have to work; one of my least favorite things about my job is getting up at such an ungodly hour, and I revel in every bit of sleep I'm able to get on my days off.

Edward groans beside me, obviously disturbed by the noise. I slip away from his warmth and fish my phone out of my purse. It stops ringing as soon as I get to it, of course.

Then I see it's my friend Lauren from Florida. I met her through Alec, as she's in the residency program with him, and we hung out occasionally. She was always fun and outgoing and we both enjoyed her company. I realize I haven't talked to her in weeks.

I creep into the living room and listen to her message. It's standard, just her wondering how I'm doing since we haven't talked in so long. Tucking myself into Edward's couch, I pull the throw over me and call her back.

"Bella!" she answers enthusiastically. "How are you?"

"Sleepy," I answer, yawning involuntarily. "How are you?"

"Oh my God, are you still sleeping? I didn't know if you would be since it's almost ten. You're usually up by now, I figured I'd just leave a message if you weren't..."

"Umm…" I pause. Is she serious? "It's almost seven here, Lauren."

"What? Oh God, the time change!" she gasps. "That's right! I feel like an idiot. I didn't mean to wake you, we can talk later…"

Ladies and gentlemen, meet Dr. Mallory. Your life will be in her hands today.

Be afraid. Be very, very afraid.

"No, it's fine. I'm awake now," I lie. I'm still tired, but I honestly don't think I'll be able to fall back asleep now that I'm up.

"Oh, okay then. I was just calling to see how you are, how life on the west coast is treating you. We miss you."

"I miss you, too. And I'm good. I really like my new job."

"Does it really rain every day in Seattle?"

"Um, no, not every day."

"Really? I wonder why people say that then..."

"It's not as sunny here," I explain. "It's not like Florida. It's a lot colder and a lot more…gray. It's cloudy a lot."

"Oh gosh, that sounds depressing."

"It's a beautiful city. I like it."

"Better than Florida?"

I think about her question. I miss Florida – I miss the white, sandy beaches, the warm weather, and the sun. I miss the palm trees and being able to wear flip flops nearly all year round. I miss living close to my mom.

But it was missing something. Someone. A certain someone unique to this city, and I can't imagine being anywhere he's not.

We've only been together three weeks, and I already can't imagine my life without him. He's what I look forward to – a reason for waking up in the morning, a reason for going to work and coming home in the evenings. A reason to smile, a reason to dress up, a reason to work hard.

I still haven't worked up the courage to tell him I love him. I feel like we've been together longer than we have since we sort of dated for a while, but three weeks seems like a shockingly short amount of time. And he's a man, so who knows what he's thinking about the issue. He likes me, that much is obvious, but to reveal that I love him may put unwanted pressure on him. He may feel obligated to say it back simply because I said it, or worse, he may not say it back at all. He may shy away from me with the notion that my feelings are developing too quickly for his liking.

Men are simple. If he loved me, he'd say so. Right?

"Yeah, I think I like it better than Florida," I finally answer.

We talk some more, simply catching up. She tells me about her residency and I tell her about my job and the people I've met. She asks me if I've met any worthy men and I tell her about Edward, keeping the details of our relationship vague. She's not surprised when she finds out he's a doctor.

"You always did like doctors," she says confidently, and I frown.

"What? No I didn't." I don't like that underlying label – like I went out and sought a doctor specifically, especially considering I had avoided Edward for that very reason.

"You dated Alec for forever," she argues.

"He was in school when we got together."

"So? You knew he'd be a doctor someday."

"That had nothing to do with it, Lauren." My tone is a little impatient.

"Have you talked to him lately?"

"Who?" I ask in confusion. "Alec?"

"Yes. Him and Dee broke up, you know. He got drunk a week ago and was talking about you – you know what a goddamn self-pitying drunk he can be. Kept saying he fucked up everything good in his life, that he didn't even know if he even wanted to be a doctor anymore. I'm surprised he hasn't tried to call you or something."

"Oh." I'm more relieved than surprised. I have no regrets about leaving, especially now that I'm with Edward, and I won't hesitate to change my number if he decides he wants to make amends. "He's a smart guy," I say absently. "He knows we're over for good."

"Yeah," she agrees. "And you living across the country doesn't really make it easy for him to grovel at your feet or anything."

"Yeah, thankfully." I can't lie – I get a tiny sense of satisfaction knowing Alec might regret what he did. It was a pretty fucked up situation and karma is a bitch.

I can't find it within myself to regret anything, however. If Alec hadn't messed around on me, I would probably still be living with him – still living a platonic but unhappy life with him in Florida – rather than flying across the country in search of a change. I would never have met Edward, and we would be living two completely separate lives. I'd be oblivious to the fact that such a great man even existed, and that things could be so much better.

It's funny how things just sort of work themselves out.

Lauren and I talk a little longer, and then she says she has to go. I sit on the couch for a little while, soaking in the silence of the dark house. All I can hear is the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. I think about taking a shower – maybe starting my day early – but I don't want to wake Edward. Besides, he looks entirely too enticing sleeping in his big, comfy bed all alone.

I snuggle in beside him, pushing my back against his front and forcing him to spoon with me. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me tight against his chest.

"Who was that?" he murmurs, referring to my phone call.

"A friend from Florida. She forgot about the time change. She's a doctor, you know, so you can't expect too much from her."

"Hmm." He holds me even tighter, kissing behind my ear, but doesn't respond. Must be too early for him to think of good comebacks. Or maybe he wasn't even listening.

Something hard presses into my backside. Yes, he definitely wasn't listening.

What was I saying?

I arch my back a little, grinding my bottom against his cock. He immediately presses back, groaning lightly, and, as we grind against each other, he pushes my hair aside and kisses my neck.

"Christ, what you do to me," he murmurs.

"You can show me," I tempt him. Will I ever get enough of this man? Nothing has ever felt like this before. I've never had such a passion, such a longing for someone at all hours of the day. I get a chill of anticipation when he moves back and pulls my underwear down my hips, pulling them to my thighs so that they're out of the way. I feel him shift behind me briefly before his cock rubs against my entrance, the head sliding against my folds and spreading the moisture. I push back into him again, anxious and eager. He pulls my back flush against his chest before he pushes inside of me, his lips kissing my head and the back of my neck sweetly. He pushes in as deep as he can and sighs contently.

"So perfect," he whispers. I twist my neck and kiss him. His touches are tender, his movements slow. Light from the new day seeps around the curtains on his window, bathing the room in a soft glow as our bodies move together as one.

I reach behind me to grab a handful of his hair and he kisses my neck, groaning softly against my skin.

"So perfect," I agree.

* * *

A/N: So yeah...things will start picking up again next chapter. Plot progression and all that. I just thought we needed some fun to start off the new year ;)

Thanks to passionmama and ms-ambrosia as always, and to everyone who's reading.

Next update...within 2 weeks? I dunno, life is predictably unpredictable. I'll tweet about it when I know for sure.

I'm **mybluesky1 **on twitter for teasers and updates.

xoxo


	20. Chapter Nineteen

A/N: Lots of medical stuff this chap. You can see the reference list at the bottom beforehand if you wish.

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

d-x-x-x-x-

**Chapter 19 – Excuse Me, Doc, But Your Patient's Arm Just Fell Off**

I'm exhausted.

I'm eight hours into the day after a restless night and one cup of weak coffee. One of my patients has been screaming her own name over and over ever since I walked onto the floor. Nothing, not even bribery or a healthy dose of Ativan, can calm her. I have another patient who's confused and in restraints after snatching out three IVs, and finally another who keeps complaining of worsening pain in her AV graft. It was declotted yesterday, and now it's becoming red and painful. The Hydrocodone isn't helping and Dr. Psycho Chart-Thrower—I mean, Dr. Biers—is on-call and won't call me back. Of course.

I call her nephrologist. "You can give her 0.5 of Dilaudid, but if it looks infected you need to call her surgeon." _Like I haven't already tried that, dick._ He hangs up on me before I can explain this.

The Dilaudid helps a little, but doesn't last long. Dr. Biers calls me back almost two hours later.

"Some pain after a declot is normal," he says impatiently. "You can give her another 0.5 of Dilaudid."

"But the first dose didn't help."

"That's why you're giving her more." He's itching to hang up the phone; I can tell by the restraint in his voice. It's amazing he hasn't done so yet.

"The incision looks red and swollen," I argue. "I don't think it's normal. Someone really needs to come see it."

"Start her on 1 gram of Rocephin IV daily and get a white blood cell count. If it gets worse, call me back." He does hang up this time.

I do as he says, but I make Emmett come look at the incision with me. I swear it looks worse than it did an hour ago. It's red and warm and hard all around the site. Emmett observes quietly while we're in front of the patient, not wanting to upset her, but out in the hallway he says, "That's definitely fucking infected. Who the hell is her surgeon?"

"Dr. Biers is on-call. Dr. Cullen did the surgery yesterday." I've gotten so used to the idea of Carlisle being a dick that I can say his name quite confidently without fear or a waiver to my voice. Edward and I are just fine despite his behavior, and that's all that really matters. I've dealt with assholes before. Carlisle is no different from the rest, really, and practically a saint when compared to Dr. Biers.

Kind of sad, really.

"Have you called him?" He's referring to Dr. Biers.

"Of course I did. He refuses to come see her."

"Call Edward and get Daddy C's cell phone number then," he suggests, like it's no big deal at all. I'm kind of horrified at the suggestion.

"I can't do that," I quickly argue. "He isn't on call."

"It's still his fucking patient."

"Do you have a death wish for me? I told you how big of an asshole he was that night, right? If I called him on his cell he'll probably come butcher me with a scalpel or something. And he's a surgeon, so I bet he'd go straight for the jugular."

"Better get used to that shit, Pockets. That asshole's gonna be your daddy-in-law one day." I'm clearly getting no sympathy from him. I roll my eyes and go see another patient. Since the antibiotic was given, I'll just wait and call Dr. Biers back if it gets worse, which I plan on doing either way unless the area improves. If that plan falls through, then… well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

By the time an hour passes, the patient's second dose of Dilaudid has worn off and she's crying and begging me to do something. Her arm actually looks _worse_. I've never seen an infection spread so quickly. Over half the limb is painful, hard, and inflamed.

I page Dr. Biers.

He doesn't call me back.

I page him again.

The patient cries louder. She tells me to cut off her arm and end her misery, please.

I call Edward, but he doesn't answer either. It's not surprising, really, considering he's working and probably has his phone on silent. I page him, and he returns the call quickly.

God bless doctors who return your call.

"Hey Edward," I say in a rush. "I was actually the one to page you. I need your dad's cell phone number."

Weird request, I know. There's a prolonged, uncomfortable silence on his end. "His number?" he finally says.

"Yes. It's a long story, but I really need him to come see his patient."

"Can't you page him?"

"He's not on call."

"Who is?"

"Why don't you want to give me his number?" I ask defensively. He's my boyfriend's father, after all. If it was anybody else it wouldn't be that big of a freakin' deal.

"'Cause I don't feel like getting my ass chewed, that's why," he answers shortly. "He'll just tell you he's not on call."

"It's really, really important, Edward. I promise."

He hesitates, but finally sighs. "Fine." He rattles off the number. I jot it down, thank him, and hang up. I page Dr. Biers one more time, then go see the patient again. She says the pain is worse. I try not to think about what I'm doing as I pick up the phone and dial Carlisle's number. My mental big-girl panties are securely in place. I'm not going to let him intimidate me – not when it's in the best interests of his patient.

"Hello?" Carlisle's initial greeting sounds short and irritated. I sit up straight and take a quick breath.

"Hey, Dr. Cullen," I begin pleasantly. In the end, at least I can say I _tried _to be nice. "This is Bella from Harborview. I know you're not on-call, but I'm taking—"

"If you know I'm not on-call then why are you calling me?" he interrupts. I don't think he even remembers that I'm the girl Edward brought home for dinner. It's probably better this way. "How did you get my number?" he inquires.

"This is important," I say shortly, avoiding his questions. "I'm taking care of your patient, Mrs. Green, who you did a declot on yesterday, and her arm is very painful and swollen and I can't get Dr. Biers to call me back—"

"Is this Edward's Bella?" he interrupts again. Was he even listening to me?

I hesitate. I think about lying. "Yes," I finally answer.

"Bella, just because you're dating my son doesn't mean you can call me for patients when I'm not on-call." His tone is chastising, like he's speaking to a five-year-old. I swallow back my annoyance.

"Dr. Cullen, I'm trying to tell you that this is important," I press. "Mrs. Green's arm is unusually painful and the swelling is increasing rapidly—"

"Everyone thinks their problems are important, Bella," he interrupts again. "Unfortunately, I'm not at home and in no position to help you. I suggest you page Dr. Biers again because it's his job to make himself available to you this weekend."

"But—"

"Goodnight, Bella." He hangs up. I stare at the silent receiver, my mouth gaping like a fish out of water. Emmett shakes his head from beside me and claps me on the back.

"It was worth a shot, Pockets," he says sympathetically. "Document that shit. Want me to call the supervisor?"

I wheel around to face Emmett, furious. "I guess so," I retort angrily. "He practically accused me of trying to get…I don't know…_special treatment_ because I date Edward."

"Yeah, well, that's not surprising," he says. "Any other girl probably _would_ try."

Wrong – any other girl would probably slit their wrists after spending a night in his company. What a dick. Emmett obviously isn't bright enough to understand. I huff and turn back around, my hand immediately flying to the phone again. I don't hesitate before putting it to my ear and hitting the redial button.

Maybe the distance between us is making me brave, but I'm fully prepared to do what I should have done that night in the kitchen. Self-preservation be damned.

It rings a few times before going to an automated voicemail. I hang up and call again, but to no avail. Emmett, who's the charge nurse this weekend, is on the phone with the nursing supervisor. I hang up and tap him on the shoulder, telling him I'll be right back, and slip into the stairwell. I make a hasty retreat to the ER and spot Edward sitting at the desk, his hand buried in his hair while he scribbles in a chart.

I tap him on the shoulder and he looks up, surprised.

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see if I could borrow your cell phone," I tell him.

"What for?"

"I need to talk to your dad," I say, quickly adding, "He won't answer the hospital calls and it's _really _important. You know I'd never want to talk to him if it wasn't." I cock an eyebrow, daring him to argue with that logic. He looks a little unconvinced, but finally pulls his cell phone from his pocket and hands it to me with a sigh. He doesn't let go when I try to take it from him.

"Are you going to tell me what this is about?" he asks.

"I'm really worried about his patient and I can't get the on-call surgeon to come see her. He won't even call me back now."

"What's wrong with her?"

I take a deep breath, then begin ticking off my problems on my fingers. "One, she's bawling her eyes out over a surgery that normally only causes soreness and not even the strongest pain medication we have is offering her any relief. Two, it's only been a few hours since this started and almost her entire arm is hard, red, and edematous. And three, all Dr. Biers did was order a gram of Rocephin, which probably isn't even effective against whatever the hell type of bacteria she has in her arm, and it obviously hasn't helped."

Edward exhales deeply and releases the phone. "Is the skin turning purple or black? Maybe like a bruise?" he asks.

"No, I don't think so. Why?"

"I've never actually seen it before, but if it's really progressing that rapidly, it kind of sounds like necrotizing fasciitis." I stare at him in horror at this realization. Flesh-eating bacteria? "She'll definitely need surgery if it is. Call my dad again and I'll call the supervisor and see what I can do."

"Thank you." I walk away, running my hand over his shoulder as I pass. I maneuver through the ER in search of an empty room and eventually find one in the back. I shut myself inside and immediately scroll through the contacts on Edward's phone, searching for his father's name. It's listed under "Dad" and I hit the call button quickly, not allowing myself to second-guess what I'm doing.

It rings and rings, and I get angrier and angrier at the prospect of him ignoring his son.

Right before it clicks to voicemail, he answers.

"If you're calling me about your girlfriend, Edward, then just know that I've already spoken to her and explained that I've done all—"

"This isn't Edward," I interrupt. "It's Bella." I don't give him time to speak, but barrel through my words in fear that he might hang up on me again. "You don't have to like me, Dr. Cullen – Lord knows I don't like you – but it is your _ethical duty _to take care of your patient. Dr. Biers won't answer his calls and I'm telling you, as someone with a shred of common sense, that Mrs. Green needs medical attention. This very well could be necrotizing fasciitis, and what will you have done? Let her die? Lose her arm? You may think it's not your responsibility since you're not on-call, but you're wrong. It's your responsibility as a _human being_ to make sure someone _you _sliced open yesterday is receiving proper medical care. I called the supervisor and I'm letting everyone know I tried to contact you twice, and I hope Mrs. Green sues the hell out of you _and_ Dr. Biers for negligence. You, Dr. Cullen, are a poor excuse for a doctor if you won't come see your patient. You're obviously in the profession for the wrong reasons, and it amazes me every day that Edward is related to you. That he put up with you for all these years and still turned out to be the amazing man that he is."

I pause and take a breath, my heart racing from the adrenaline rush. I try not to breathe too heavily into the phone, but I'm flushed and on edge as my breaths come out in heavy bursts. My thoughts race sporadically as I try to gather anything else I want to say to him.

It takes me several moments to realize the phone is dead.

He hung up on me. Again.

_Goddamn it_.

Fuming, I return the phone to Edward, who frowns with worry. "Did you not reach him?"

"Yes, I reached him," I reply sullenly. "Fat lot of good that did. But thanks for letting me try." I leave out the part about me showing my ass. He'll probably hear about it later, but right now I simply don't have the energy or the time to get into it.

"I spoke to the supervisor," he says. "He said he's having security go to Dr. Bier's house and that the Chief of Surgery has been notified. A surgeon should be there soon." His smile is forced but sympathetic.

"Thank you," I say sincerely. He nods and I slip away with a brief goodbye. I take the elevator back upstairs and find the supervisor sitting behind the desk at the nurses station. He's a tall man with a broad build and wild, dark hair. He has a Grizzly Adams thing going for him, I think, if only he had the bushy beard to complete the look.

Emmett steps out of a patient's room and spots me. "Hey Pockets, her arms looks even worse," he informs. "Collin is still trying to get in touch with Dr. Biers or Dr. Cullen. He's having security go to Dr. Bier's house to make sure he's okay and to get him to come."

I just nod as I head past him to Mrs. Green's room. I can hear her sobbing from the hallway. While I've had problems with doctors in the past, I've never had one just blatantly ignore me when I insisted there was a serious problem with their patient. They can be jackasses, but for the most part they listen to what we have to say.

Emmett was right – her arm looks worse. It's more swollen, and the incision is draining twice as much puss and is turning a deep purple color. My mind flashes to what Edward said about necrotizing fasciitis. Mrs. Green herself is pale and diaphoretic. I touch her forehead with the back of my hand and realize she's burning up. She screams when I touch her arm.

Yes, this definitely isn't good.

I get her vitals and step back into the hallway, discarding my gloves. Everything is stable except her temperature, which is 102.6. "Collin, I think we might need to call a rapid response," I say. "Something is seriously wrong…"

I try to stay calm, but internally, I'm panicking. A rapid response will be essentially useless, but it would be nice to be surrounded by doctors until a surgeon arrives. I wonder if Collin could call the orthopedic surgeon, or hell, maybe even the general surgeon. Christ, I'd even take Dr. Ellis right now.

_Deep breaths, Bella. You're clearly having a mental breakdown._

As if reading my mind, Collin hangs up the phone and says, "I have the police going to Dr. Biers's house to check on him. I got in touch with Dr. Sanders and he said he would be here as soon as he could to see what's going on, hopefully within ten minutes. But yeah, let's go ahead and call a rapid."

Dr. Sanders is an orthopedic surgeon, and I'm relieved. I pick up the phone to call the rapid response but freeze when I see Dr. Biers stroll into the nurses station, his pace leisurely and unhurried.

I slam the phone back down on its cradle. "Dr. Biers, I paged you," I say quickly. "I really need you to come see Mrs. Green—"

"I told you I was coming," he interrupts dismissively. "Where is her chart?"

Collin stands, tucking the chart beneath his arm. "I have it, Dr. Biers. We need you to come see Mrs. Green first." His tone is final, leaving no room for argument.

Dr. Biers looks at Collin, his eyebrows raised, but miraculously doesn't argue. I guess it pays to be in a position of authority. He follows us to Mrs. Green's room and looks at her arm, not even bothering with gloves or alcohol foam as he touches around the draining puss. She wails about the pain and he turns to me, his eyes narrowed angrily.

"You didn't tell me her arm was turning black."

"It just started turning that color recently and I paged you fifty times," I argue haughtily. The look he gives me after I say this is nearly lethal.

Whoops – was I not supposed to reveal your negligence in front of the patient? You wanted me to take the fall instead, you say?

_Sorry, asshole._

He begins explaining things to the patient, who's only halfway listening because of the pain. Luckily, her horrified husband is now present. Dr. Biers explains that it appears she has a bacteria present in her arm that's releasing toxins and destroying her flesh, and he needs to go in surgically right away to remove the infection. He ends the discussion by demanding I have the husband sign a consent and telling Collin he needs an OR immediately.

He nearly collides with someone on the way out the door, and I'm surprised to see Dr. Cullen.

Like, nearly-shit-my-pants surprised.

"What's going on?" Dr. Cullen asks, clearly annoyed. He looks at Dr. Biers, who explains the situation and how he 'was not informed' of the severity of Mrs. Green's infection. Collin tries to move them to the hallway, but Dr. Cullen refuses to go, instead going to see Mrs. Green first. Dr. Sanders soon shows up, and suddenly everything is chaos. Dr. Biers is griping and Collin is trying to explain the situation to Dr. Sanders, who looks like he wants nothing more than to leave. I get the consent and another dose of Dilaudid for Mrs. Green, and by time I finish, Dr. Cullen and Dr. Biers are arguing heatedly at the nurses station.

"It is _not _acceptable for _you _to ignore _my _patient when _you're _on-call." Dr. Cullen is beyond livid.

"I told them I would be here shortly," Dr. Biers argues. "I was simply told that the incision was red and painful, which is perfectly normal with a surgical site infection and I ordered Rocephin and a cell count—"

"We're you not advised to come see the patient? Dr. Biers, you're not that pretty, nurses don't insist you come to the floor just to stare at your beautiful face—"

Jesus Christ on a totem pole, is Dr. Cullen actually sticking up for me?

"I'm aware of that, _Doctor _Cullen—"

Collin steps in and interrupts them, insisting that the patient requires their attention right now and practically demanding that they stop their bickering. Dr. Cullen tells Dr. Biers that he'll be operating, and under no circumstances will Dr. Biers be touching his patient in this lifetime. Dr. Bier's face is turning the shade of Mrs. Green's arm – dark red and purple in places, and for a moment I worry he's going to haul off and start throwing charts again. But he eventually leaves the floor without resorting to physical violence, with just a few muttered curses lingering in his wake.

A surgical tech comes to get Mrs. Green a few minutes later. Dr. Cullen leaves without speaking to me. I didn't expect him to grovel over how thankful he is for what I did, but a brief "Thank you" would have been lovely. Then again, hell hasn't yet frozen over.

Collin says something about writing an incident report. I wonder, errantly, what a doctor must do to get fired, since Dr. Biers' behavior seems to consist of nothing except fucking up. And yet he's still here.

It's almost shift change. I try to catch up with the rest of my work, plus I now have a ton of documenting to do. Edward comes by a few minutes later and asks about the patient, to which I reply that his father finally showed up and took her to emergency surgery. I give a brief account of the verbal sparring that took place in the nurses station. Edward isn't surprised, but his relief is palpable.

-x-x-

Tonight couldn't have possibly been better for drinking.

Mrs. Green is still in surgery when I get off work. I let Edward know I'm leaving, then go to my apartment to take a quick shower and change. I meet Dr. Hale and Irina at the bar, and we get a table in the back. Irina quickly orders a pitcher of margaritas and some appetizers while complaining that she's needed this night all week. Apparently, she had a bad day as well. Dr. Hale got off this morning and points out that she may as well live in a liquor cabinet for all the drinking her job causes her to do.

"Should we get shots?" Irina asks us. Her eyes are hopeful that we'll agree.

"Hell yeah," Dr. Hale says. "It wouldn't be a party without shots."

"I haven't done shots in a while," I warn them. I can normally handle liquor pretty well, but shots are an unfortunate weakness. I can't always remember what happens, but the stories – especially those involving vomit – sound horrendous. The amnesia is probably God's act of mercy.

"Well that's about to change," Dr. Hale says. "Tonight's about celebration."

"Celebrating what?"

"Being the fuck off work, that's what."

She's a lot like Emmett, I think. A disturbing female version. I take my shot graciously when it's handed to me and we each throw them back and chase them with our margaritas. They propose doing another, but I know I need to pace myself and decline.

Dr. Hale is actually a lot of fun outside of work. Get a little alcohol in her and she never stops talking. Emmett is brought up at one point and she goes on a tangent about how stupid men are. Feeling brave – or drunk, same difference – I ask her if she really had sex with him that day they were arguing at the nurses station.

"Fuck yes I did," she says unabashedly. "He may be goddamn stupid, but he's a good lay. At least he's useful in _one _department."

"Ask her how big his schlong is," Irina prompts devilishly.

Dr. Hale's eyes light up as she starts to measure with her hands. I close my eyes and cover my ears and say, "Don't wanna know don't wanna know don't wanna know—" The last thing I need is a mental image of Emmett's pecker burned in my memory forever. I've already been unfortunate enough to see his unnaturally white ass.

"Please, Bella. There's nothing wrong with a well-hung guy. I've always been curious – how big is Edward?" Irina's eyebrows dance in excitement. I choke on my drink.

"I'm not telling you that," I finally sputter.

"Oh please, don't be a prude. Inquiring minds need to know."

"How big is Brady?" I challenge.

"Eight inches," she replies immediately.

"You _measured_?"

"Of course I measured, Bella. It's good information to have."

Good information to have for what? A tallywhacker auction? A dicking contest? Should I buy a digital scale and weigh it while I'm at it?

"Well I haven't measured," I inform her.

"You can estimate. Is it longer or shorter than this loaf of bread?" She holds up the roll they placed on the table and my eyes go wide. Her expression is serious as she awaits an answer.

"I can't…it's umm…" I start stuttering. I don't really feel comfortable talking about this with them – with _anybody_. Which is strange, because Lauren and I once spent a night exchanging schlong sizes like we were swapping recipes. But that was different. That was when I was with Alec.

But this is Edward, and I don't want his dick shared even in conversation. I don't want other women imagining what it looks like, and I would certainly be pissed off if he described my boob size to his friends and joked about whether or not they were big enough.

I quickly order another shot and ask the girls if they want one, which they do. Irina senses my hesitation and thankfully lets the subject drop.

Even though we're happy to be off work, it's eventually what we start talking about. I tell them about my night and how Dr. Biers wouldn't come see my patient, and how it sounds like she has necrotizing fasciitis. It's such a rare and feared disease that it immediately becomes a subject of fascination.

"Do you think they'll be able to save her arm?" Irina asks, wide-eyed.

"I have no idea. They're probably still in surgery now."

"I doubt they'll save it," Dr. Hale offers. "They have to get rid of all the infected tissue. If it's spread too far they'll end up having to amputate the whole thing."

"That's scary," says Irina. "Could you imagine getting a paper-cut and then having to get your whole arm cut off? I saw a thing on Oprah, I think, where this woman cut her finger chopping peppers and she got the infection and they had to cut off practically one whole side of her body." She looks at me with worry, then Dr. Hale. "It's not contagious, is it?"

I hold out my arms. They're blurry from all the alcohol. "Nothing's rotting off yet," I say. "Still have all ten fingers." I wiggle them around as proof.

"It can be contagious. You wore gloves, right?" Dr. Hale asks.

"Yes, but Dr. Biers didn't. It would serve him right if he caught it."

"He better hope he doesn't have a paper-cut," Irina says seriously, looking fearful.

We talk and drink some more. Dr. Hale insists that I call her Rosalie and drunkenly claims that best friends aren't so formal to one-another. She also flirts with the bartender and gets his number, then waves it around and exclaims that she would never spend all her time obsessing over one man when she can get practically anyone she wants. Irina and I exchange a look, because even drunk, we don't believe a word that she's spewing.

In a brief moment of seriousness – or as serious as you can be while sufficiently intoxicated – Irina asks me how things are with Edward.

"Are things good? I mean, do you think he's…you know…the _one_?"

Even drunk, my belly flutters at the mention of his name. I wish I was going to his house tonight instead of to my cold, lonely apartment.

"Things are great," I say. Surprising even myself, I add, "And I hope so."

A month ago I would have been scared shitless at the prospect.

Today, I'm scared shitless of it being any other way.

Another shot of tequila later, and we have to pull an intervention when Rosalie begins dialing Emmett's number. At first she claims she wants to give him a piece of her mind, then she admits to being horny, and finally, she says she misses him.

"No booty calls!" Irina chants. She's holding Rosalie's cell phone hostage. "Not until he shapes up."

"I can't help it." Rosalie's forehead hits the table and she groans. "I'm pathetic."

"Yes, you are. But that's why you have us here."

Rosalie shoots Irina a drunken bird without ever lifting her head from the table.

-x-x-

"Have you seen my name badge?"

"Yes, I stole it so I can sneak into the Doctor's Lounge and steal millions of dollars worth of coffee every day."

"Seriously, Bella." Edward is hovering over me while I try to chart, his arms crossed stubbornly as he awaits a confession.

"I am serious."

"I have to pay five bucks for a new one if I can't find it…"

"Fine, it's in my purse. You left it on my dresser. Have you seen my stethoscope? I've had to use Emmett's all day and I think his cooties are giving me an ear infection."

"It seems like I saw it under the bed."

"Under the bed? What's it doing under there? And why didn't you bring it to work for me? I brought you your name badge, Edward." My tone is chastising.

"I didn't realize I was in charge of your stethoscope's whereabouts. And I thought you took it with you. I don't check under my bed every day."

"You see? I care about you enough to bring you your things to work, but you'd let my stethoscope rot on your dusty hardwood floor for the next century and a half."

"You only brought my name badge because you were thinking about stealing coffee," he states, matter-of-fact.

"You can't prove that."

"There's no need – we both know I'm right, which is all that matters."

"No, what matters is that your name badge is being securely guarded in my locker. I think a little groveling about how right I am is in order if you ever want to see it again."

"You're holding my name badge hostage?"

"Damn right I am."

"I'll just hold your stethoscope hostage."

"You can try."

He narrows his eyes at me. "Also, are any of my lab coats at your place? I can only find one."

"I may be holding that hostage too."

"Seriously, Bella." He looks like he may be tiring of this game. I sigh.

"Yes, you left one so I washed it the other day."

He nods. "So can I get my badge?"

I huff and pretend to be inconvenienced, but go to the break room and retrieve it from my locker. I hook it sloppily to the collar of his shirt when I return and he thanks me with a cute smile.

"Are you coming by tonight?" he asks. _Coming by _is code for staying the night, which I've done more often than not this past week. I like having my own space, but if it was up to me I'd sleep in his bed every night.

"I'll have to go home and get some clean clothes. All my work clothes are dirty, too. Can I do laundry at your place tonight?"

"You don't have to ask, Bella," he assures me. "And you should just leave some extra clothes at my house so you won't always have to go home first." He says the words like they're no big deal, but for all the implication they hold he may as well have dropped on one knee and proposed.

Okay, maybe that was a tad dramatic. Asking me to leave clothes at his house is a far, far cry from a marriage proposal.

But it's still _something_. It's still an act which defines us as a couple. My panties will be in his space, a lacy red flag of warning to any ho that tries to sneak into his bed. Not that he brings hoes home, of course, but now I know that he never intends to.

I bite my lip while trying to hide how much this means to me. He probably thought nothing of the comment. To him, it's all just a matter of convenience.

But to me, it's so, so much more.

* * *

Medical References:

**Necrotizing Fasciitis – **I think this was described adequately in the chapter, but it's commonly referred to as "Flesh-eating bacteria." If you want to see some truly gruesome pics, google image the name. For more info go to http : / / en . wikipedia . org / wiki / Necrotizing_fasciitis for more info – remove the spaces.

**AV graft **– an access used for hemodialysis, usually in a patient's arm. http : / / www . riversideonline . com / health_reference / Bladder-Kidney / DA00078 . cfm

**Declot** – AV grafts can become clotted, and in that case a surgeon has to go in surgically an eliminate the clot, which is referred to as a 'declot'

**Hydrocodone and Dilaudid** – pain medication

**Ativan** – a medication given for anxiety.

**Rocephin** – antibiotic.

**White blood cell count** – lab value. A high level indicates infection.

-x-x-

Thanks as always to ms-ambrosia and passionmama for all their hard work, and thanks for reading!

Next chapter as soon as I can. I'll tweet about it when I know for sure.

So...Carlisle showed up but still acted like a donkey...what might we think of him now? What might we think of all the medical stuff? Would you rather not read it, or do you enjoy it? I'm always curious to hear your thoughts.

I'm **mybluesky1 **on twitter.

xoxo


	21. Chapter Twenty

A/N: Thanks so much for the responses last chapter! I'm glad nearly all of you like the medical stuff, cause you're getting a bit more this chapter. Then we'll get a break from it for a bit, I promise :) Reference's at the bottom.

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

-x-x-x-x-

**Chapter 20 - Holy Shit, Indeed**

Mrs. Green doesn't lose her arm, but it was a close call. They had to cut away over half the muscle tissue and she's expected to endure months of rehab. Even then, she's not predicted to regain full function.

A catheter was placed in her chest for dialysis and she was sent to ICU after her surgery, where they've monitored her all week. I saw her husband in the cafeteria and he updated me on her progress, as well as his intentions to sue Dr. Biers. Carlisle is in the clear, however, since he ended up coming in when he wasn't on-call.

I tell Alice this over coffee.

"Could they have sued him anyway?" she wonders around a mouthful of scone. "He wasn't on-call, so technically it wasn't _his _responsibility."

I shake my head. "The hell if I know. The law acts all wonky about our duties sometimes. Either way, I deserve a thank you," I declare indignantly.

"I wouldn't hold your breath," Alice says. "Not after the dinner episode the two of you had. Just be grateful he stood up for you to Dr. Biers."

"He didn't really stand up for me. He was just putting Dr. Biers down the only way he knew how. I was like… a pawn. I just happened to be there."

She sighs wistfully. "Gosh, why did I have to be off that day? I always miss the best stuff."

"I don't know, but I'm starting to think I don't get paid enough for the crap I put up with."

"You're _starting _to think that?"

"Touche. I should have been like… a florist or something."

She looks surprised. "A florist? Really?"

"Sure. It's just flowers. No one really cares if a flower dies. We expect it, actually. And they don't put you down or talk back to you. If you get stuck by a rose thorn, you don't have to take prophylactic meds for HIV. Oh, and it smells good all the time! No dookie or rotten wound stench. Can't you just imagine how relaxing that job would be?"

"Good point. It's not too late to switch," she says knowingly.

I give her a very serious look. "Don't tempt me."

A few moments of silence pass in which we both sip our coffee. Alice stares out the window and taps the side of her cup with her finger.

She says, "Did you hear that he called in Dr. Ellis to do the surgery with him?"

"No," I answer, surprised. "It seems like Dr. Sanders would have done that since he was already there."

"Well, apparently she agreed to do it and Dr. Cullen trusts her."

"That's weird," I muse. "Their whole little thing is… it's just weird." I shake my head and then lean closer to Alice. I lower my voice even though no one I recognize is present and the baristas probably don't give two shits about our workplace gossip. "You don't think he's having an affair with her, do you?"

Alice crinkles her nose in distaste. "You think he'd push her to marry Edward if they were sleeping together?"

"Stranger things have happened," I assure, although that _does_ sound a little sickening. It doesn't make a lot of sense. If Carlisle liked her _that _way, then surely he wouldn't be pressing his son to marry her. And anyway, Carlisle's old enough to be her father. What kind of man would he have to be to sleep with a much younger woman and then pawn her off on his own son?

"I'd hope not _that _strange," Alice says, shaking her head. But I'm not convinced. What if they started sleeping together after she and Edward broke up? That's highly plausible, however disgusting it may be.

I take a large sip of my coffee and try not to get carried away with these ludicrous thoughts. I have no proof. It's just as likely that they're nothing but good friends.

Esme doesn't seem too worried about their kinship, I remind myself.

"Yeah, I'm sure you're right," I finally agree.

-x-x-

Mr. Lowery is back in the hospital, and I bargained with Emmett so that I could be his nurse today. His labs are all good, which means he's been eating correctly and keeping up with his dialysis. However, his x-rays showed a bad case of bilateral lobe pneumonia.

"This is my second time having it, and I don't even know how someone gets pneumonia," he complains while I'm opening his medications. "My daughter says it isn't contagious."

"It _can _be contagious. Someone who has it really has to cough right in your face, though. You may have just gotten a little cold that turned into it."

He barely acknowledges my explanation. "Another thing – my daughter got it last year and the doctor just gave her antibiotics and sent her home. How come Edward insisted I be admitted? I could have done the same thing she did. It'll be Thanksgiving in a few weeks, Bella. I don't need to be here."

_Sheesh_, someone is cranky this morning.

"First of all, you're still refusing to get a primary doctor," I scold him. Mr. Lowery purses his lips and takes the proffered cup of meds. I hand him his water. "Second of all, pneumonia can kill you. Especially as you get older, not to mention your kidney and heart problems. You need IV antibiotics, and it's always better to be safe than sorry."

"Have you seen me, Bella?" he declares. "I'm as strong as an ox. If a war can't bring me down, I'll be damned if a little case of pneumonia will do it."

"Yeah, well, don't give it a reason to," I say. "You're adamant about Edward being your doctor, so you have to follow his orders."

"Yeah, yeah." He has about twelve pills total, some of them huge, and he swallows them all at once. No matter how many times I see someone do it, it's always impressive. "How are you and Edward, anyway?" he says, handing me the empty cup.

"We're good." I leave it at that.

He cocks a wrinkled eyebrow. "That's it?"

"Pretty much."

"Well have you taken any big steps? Moved in together? Bought a house? Gotten engaged?"

I look at him with feigned shock. "It's a bit early for that, don't you think? It's only been a month and a half or so since we became official."

"Me and my wife only dated two weeks before we got married," he argues, his voice taking on a passionate tone. "It was the best decision of my life. We were married for thirty-four years before I lost her to cancer." I start to apologize for his loss, but he quickly waves me off. "None of that now, Bella. It was several years ago. I've made my peace. The point is, sometimes, when it's right, it's just right. You know what I mean? You shouldn't put a time limit on something like that. If it's meant to be, then you just know it."

I have to nod. I guess he has a point.

I finish up and turn to leave the room, but Mr. Lowery calls out to me before I go. "He loves you, you know."

I stop and look at him in surprise, ignoring the sudden flutter in my chest. "What makes you so sure?"

He shrugs. "I've known Edward a long time," he says. "You both wear your hearts on your sleeves. The two of you might as well be carrying around a sign." At my doubtful expression, he adds, "Sometimes, Bella, if you want to know something, the easiest thing to do is ask."

-x-x-

Edward makes me dinner. It's not edible or anything, but it's the thought that counts.

He sends a text asking me to come over, then another apologizing – though for what, I have no idea – and then I enter his house only to be assaulted by the smell of charred meat. The windows are open and the smoke is cleared, but I'm pretty sure the stench is imbedded inside the walls. There's a draft in the house from the open windows, and I enter the kitchen to find Edward trashing all the food, the frown on his face positively adorable.

He actually looks a little guilty when he sees me enter. "I can cook," he tells me, as if I said anything to the contrary. Then he rethinks his comment and says, "Well… I can cook spaghetti. But chicken didn't seem _that _hard."

I can't stop grinning. He's got a streak of flour across the front of his hair that looks like a platinum blonde highlight.

"It smells good," I lie. Edward looks at me like I'm crazy, so I sigh. "Alright, it stinks. Good God, it stinks. I'm actually a little thankful the house is still standing, because I could smell the stench halfway down the street and I got worried."

"Gee, thanks." He goes back to cleaning, as sullen as ever.

"Why were you cooking? I've never seen you cook."

"For you," he says simply, not looking at me.

"That's sweet, but you don't have to cook for me."

"I wanted to." He sets the rag on the counter and sighs, then finally turns around to face me. He leans against the counter, his hands resting on the surface on either side. "We haven't seen each other that much lately. Except at night, when we're both exhausted. I just wanted to… you know… do something nice for you."

I can tell he feels like a total failure. It's in the slump of his shoulders and the downturn of his lips. The whole situation would be really funny if he didn't look so damn crestfallen.

I make my way over to him, pausing right in front of his body. His legs are parted slightly and I stand between them. I reach up and smooth the flour that's in his hair, and his eyes light up just a little.

Mr. Lowery's words come back to me.

"I _love _that you wanted to cook for me."

Another little frown, but I kiss away his uncertainty. I run my hand up his chest, to his neck, and move closer so that he's pinned against the counter. I don't pull away until we're both panting.

His nose touches mine, his lips lingering near. "We can go out to eat somewhere," he offers. "Where do you want to go?"

"It hasn't rained in a few days. Can we go to that place in the park?"

"The place with the view?" He grins, obviously keen to the idea.

"Yeah. And let's take some wine this time. We'll stop and get something to eat on the way. It'll be like a little picnic!"

He smiles at my enthusiasm, and I move away to pick out some wine from his small wine rack. There's not a lot to choose from, as he never keeps it fully stocked, but there's something red and something white. I turn back to him and say, "Red or white?"

"Grab one of both," he suggests. "I'll go get a blanket."

-x-x-

I change clothes and we pack everything into the car. After some debating on where we should eat – Edward thought we should get takeout from an Italian restaurant, but I didn't want to wait on the food – we reach the park with a large bag of Wendy's, two bottles of wine, and two paper cups. I had originally suggested Taco Bell, so it was somewhat of a compromise, but I really think Edward just grew tired of arguing about it. Nonetheless, I love getting my way.

We make the small trek through the woods with our stuff and Edward spreads the blanket on the ground. It's an unusually dry day and the view isn't obstructed by fog. We sit down and I hold up both bottles of wine.

"What goes better with Wendy's, red or white?" I ask, grinning.

Edward smirks in amusement. "Well you're having chicken, so I'd say white." His answer sounds more like a question.

"Yeah, but it's _spicy_ chicken. And you're having beef."

"It's a hamburger."

"Beef is beef, Edward. Putting it between bread doesn't change what it is."

"You like white," he says dismissively, ignoring my logic. "And you're having chicken. Here, I'll open it." I hand it over, thankful he'd been thoughtful enough to bring the wine opener. We'd been in the car when he suddenly remembered it and ran back inside to retrieve it.

He opens the bottle quickly and pours some in a cup for me. It's dark out, so he leaves the flashlight on and lays it across the ground so it's pointing towards our food. It doesn't help much, but it's hard to look at anything besides the extraordinary view in front of us anyway.

And Edward. It's hard not to look at Edward, bundled up handsomely in his thick jacket and blue jeans. But I realize he looks handsome in anything. Or nothing.

Nothing is my favorite.

We clink our cups together. "To this awesome spot," I toast.

"To the beautiful city," he counters.

"To a clear, non-rainy day."

"To the beautiful woman keeping me company."

I bite my lip at the compliment, but don't waver. "To the sexy doctor who can only cook spaghetti, but who makes good use of convenient drive-thrus."

"Hey, the drive-thru was your idea," he protests quickly, and I laugh before taking a big drink of my wine. It tastes different coming from a paper cup.

Edward digs through the bag and hands over my chicken sandwich and fries. "No ketchup," he says after a moment of searching.

"You didn't ask for any," I remind him.

"I shouldn't have to. Everyone eats ketchup with their fries."

"Not me." I pop two bare fries into my mouth. "I'm an eat-and-drive type of girl. Ketchup is too messy."

"You shouldn't eat and drive," he lectures me.

"You shouldn't eat ketchup."

"That's nowhere near the same."

"Depends on who you ask."

He narrows his eyes at me, then snatches a fry out of my fingers and pops it in his mouth. "I'm not asking. I'm telling," he states. I steal some of his fries in retaliation, teasing him for good measure, and then start eating my sandwich.

We talk about work while we eat – about a difficult patient he had to deal with the other day, about Mrs. Green, and even about Mr. Lowery, who's been in the hospital for four days now due to his unrelenting pneumonia. I ask Edward if he's met Mr. Lowery's granddaughter, the little red-headed beauty named Carla, and he states that he met her once when she came to visit him in the hospital. He says she was so shy around him that she hid behind her mom the whole time, but that Mr. Lowery seemed absolutely taken with her.

When we're done eating, we throw the trash in the bag and set it to the side, along with our empty wine cups. I ease between his legs and rest my back against his chest. His hands slide beneath my jacket and shirt, resting on my bare skin, and I squeal and complain about how cold they are. Finally, I give in and let him warm them against me.

We talk about Carlisle for a moment. "He's hard-headed," Edward says. "I know he appreciates you calling him the other day, but he probably won't say anything. Too much pride."

That's kind of sad, I think. I can't imagine being so absorbed in my own God-complex that I can't thank someone or be nice to my son's girlfriend, who, might I add, has been nothing but awesome. All things considered.

"Did he really find this spot?" I ask doubtfully. It's hard to believe Carlisle has a romantic bone in his body. I could easily picture him finding a beautiful location and trying to destroy it with his ugliness. Maybe by petitioning to have a landmine set up back here or something.

"Yep, he really did," Edward says with a sigh. "Mom told me about it. They used to come out here a lot, but I don't think they have in a while."

"How come?"

"They both work a lot. Plus, they're getting older. A good night to Mom is sitting on the back porch while it's raining with a cup of coffee and a trashy romance novel."

I gasp in surprise. "Your mom reads trashy romance novels?"

"My God, they're the one vice she could never get rid of. I used to be forbidden to touch them when I was a kid. When I was ten, I stole one and read it in the middle of the night in my closet." He chuckles and says, "That's how I learned about the birds and the bees. The talk was never necessary after that."

I laugh, turning my face to bury my cold nose against his chest. "I would've never taken you for a trashy romance novel reader, Edward."

I feel him shrug against me. "'Forbidden fruit' and all that," he replies with amusement.

At my request, Edward tells me all about Chicago, about some of the people he knew and the places he worked. In return, I tell him stories about when I lived in Florida, revealing bits about Alec here and there if he asks. He grows tired of our position and eventually lies on his side, pulling me against him, and we spoon on the blanket while facing the view of the city. His breath is hot on my neck, and I seek his warmth while his hands slide up and skim beneath my jacket once more.

"Do you ever miss it?" he asks, and I sigh.

"I miss my mom. I'm happy here, though."

"Do you ever miss him?"

He pauses, as if surprised by his own question. Or maybe he's afraid of the answer. He doesn't have to be, though.

"No," I assure him. "It was weird at first, getting used to being on my own again. To only think about myself and not him too, you know? But… no, I don't miss him."

His nose skims along my hair. "Good," he breathes in relief. "I know I shouldn't, but sometimes I worry… you were with him a long time…"

I reach for his hand beneath my jacket and squeeze. "You don't have to worry, Edward," I try to assure him. "I'm with you now."

"I know." His voice is quiet, and he squeezes me a little tighter.

"And I'm not going anywhere," I promise. "If you don't."

"I won't." He kisses the back of my head. "Not without you."

I smile, my heart fluttering at the thought of this declaration. Sometimes, when I'm with Edward, I feel so happy I could burst. His sweet words and light touches make it impossible to feel any other way. His vulnerability, hidden just below the surface, makes me want to wrap my arms around him and hold on tight. I never want to let him go.

He pushes my hair aside and places a solitary, light kiss on my neck. I sigh and lean into him, enjoying the serenity of the moment.

"Bella?" he whispers after a few minutes.

"Hmm?"

"I…" He hesitates, then says, "I care about you a lot, you know."

I smile. "I care about you too, Edward."

"I haven't done this in a while," he goes on. "It was different with everyone else. But with you… fuck, I think about you all the time. I really do. And I get scared to death that I'm going to push you too fast or too far, but then you've been so good about everything that happened with my parents and other people seem to think I'm just overanalyzing things and that I need to just go with the flow. But relationships are supposed to be more than that, right? It's not as easy as just going with the fucking flow, otherwise everyone would be great at this shit…"

I frown and twist my body around to face his, my heart instinctively speeding at his words. Maybe Mr. Lowery was right.

Edward tries to keep talking, but I press my lips to his softly, silencing his ramble.

"It's okay," I murmur. "I have no idea what I'm doing, either. But I care about you more than I've cared about anyone else, so… I'm with you. We'll get through everything together."

His smile is slightly strained. "So… would you completely freak out if I told you I love you?"

My heart stops.

And then it starts again. Slowly. One quick, hard thump at a time.

What kind of question is that, really?

"Are you asking this for future reference, or…" I let the question linger, hoping he'll elaborate. Now that my heart has restarted, it's pumping erratically, trying to make sense of exactly what he's implying while hoping for the best.

He sighs loudly and covers his face with one hand. "Yeah, I just completely screwed that up. I'm sorry," he groans. But his confession brings a smile to my face. A smile so big, it hurts.

"No, I wouldn't freak out," I say softly. "_If _you love me, that is. Would you freak out if I said it?"

His hand travels from his face to his hair. Then he reaches forward and rubs his thumb across my cheek, his eyes softening, his smile wide and breathtaking.

"No, not at all." He chuckles lightly. "I'm sorry I screwed that up."

"It's okay. You still haven't said it, though," I remind him.

His smile falls lightly, but then he leans forward to kiss me, his lips soft and gentle. "I think I loved you since the very first day you infuriated me," he says seriously. "You've been on my mind ever since. And I'm positive I love you now."

I grin, pulling his lips to mine again. "I'm positive I love you, too."

"Good," he breathes against me, and a weight lifts with our relief.

We kiss a bit longer, my hand running over his neck and through his hair. I hold him to me, scared that this perfect moment will slip away the second I loosen my hold. I can't recall ever feeling so content, and I can't help but ponder the fragility of relationships and how easy it is for feelings to fade.

I hold on tight, praying that this is our forever.

I eventually turn around again, pressing my back to his chest while he holds me snugly against his body. We both watch Seattle, the city that's full of life below us, while our own world seems to stand still.

Time passes. We may have laid that way for hours. It felt like only seconds, like no amount of time with him would ever be enough. He tickles my leg and I ignore it at first, but when he does it again, I jerk against him.

"Stop," I lightly scold.

"What?" He sounds confused.

He does it again, further up my outer thigh. "You're tickling me," I complain. I reach down to swat him away, only to see the biggest fucking spider in existence crawling up my leg, probably preparing to launch an attack and suck the blood from my face. It's too dark to see the details, but goddamn the thing is beastly.

I don't think – it's a reflex reaction, but I immediately scream and start slinging elbows and kicking legs. I hear Edward let out an "Oof!" behind me as I scramble from the blanket, dancing around and patting myself and literally going crazy. I look all over for the blasted spider but don't see it anywhere. I start feeling around in my hair, still frantic.

Edward is on the ground clutching his stomach, looking pained.

"Edward! Get off the ground! There's a _giant _spider! Get up, get up!"

"Are you craz—"

"_No! _Get_ up!"_

I tug on his arm, and he eventually humors me and lets me pull him from the ground. He doubles over slightly.

"You knocked the breath out of me," he accuses.

"Did you not hear what I said? There was a _giant _spider. It was bigger than my goddamn hand. I probably saved your life!"

"I highly doubt that," he grumbles.

"It could have been poisonous, Edward. Oh my God, I can't go near that blanket. We need to go home and throw it in a tub of bleach. What if it's still in the blanket?"

Edward suddenly grabs my face in both of his hands, forcing me to look straight at him. His grip is slightly rough. "Breathe," he demands, his tone forceful.

I'm panting, but I nod and struggle to take deep breaths.

He kisses me on the lips. "Thank you. You're gonna be the death of me, I swear it."

"Not if the spider gets you first," I say seriously, and he laughs.

"I'll be careful," he promises. "If you get the trash, I'll take care of the blanket."

"Okay." I timidly begin picking up the paper and the wine bottle, still shaken. Spiders usually don't bother me _that _much, but holy fuck that thing was like an insect on steroids. It needs to be in an exhibit – I've never seen anything like it. And it was _touching _me.

I shiver.

"Hey." Edward pulls me to him, and I happily sink against his chest. "Try to relax, alright? It's more afraid of you then you are of it."

I highly doubt that. If it was afraid of me, it wouldn't have been doing a tango on my outer thigh.

"I'm okay," I say. "It just surprised me for a second." That's the understatement of the century.

"You're never going to want to come out here again, are you?" He sounds a little disappointed.

"No, no, I am. Just maybe during the day for a while? And maybe we should start bringing a gun or something."

"A gun?" he repeats, surprised.

"That spider was huge, Edward," I reiterate passionately. "It's going to take more than a little boot to bring something like that down."

He laughs loudly and says, "I love you, Bella." I'm surprised by how natural the words sound. He kisses me hard and not even giant, interfering spiders can disrupt the perfection of this night.

-x-x-

"Where have you been?" Jessica accosts me at the entrance to the nurses station, her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. "I've been calling you for fifteen minutes. The pump in 405 is beeping."

I roll my eyes and push past her. She's been sore ever since Edward had flowers delivered here two days ago. They were a combination of lilies and pink roses, and they were gorgeous. To add insult to injury, Edward has brought me coffee nearly every day he works and he ignores Jessica every time she tries to subtly flirt with him.

Yeah, it's pretty awesome.

"Someone else could have fixed it," I say dismissively. "I was doing an IV."

"Everyone else is _busy_."

I just shrug, and this irritates her even more. She's grumbling something under her breath as she moves to answer the phone. "Mr. Lowery is ready to come back from dialysis," she seethes as soon as she hangs up. Since the dialysis unit is right down the hall, it's our job to transport our patients back and forth.

"Call the tech."

"They're busy."

"How would you know if you haven't even called?"

"Trust me, I know."

_Right_. That's real assuring.

I go fix the beeping pump. On my way, I run into the tech and ask if she has time to go get Mr. Lowery, and she does. I catch up on giving out medications, and when Mr. Lowery gets back to his room, I check his blood pressure and make sure he's feeling okay after dialysis. All he requests is a lunch tray and a cup of ice.

Edward has taken to texting me dirty things while we're working. I guess it helps the time pass – I know it certainly gives me something to look forward to, though time usually passes slower once I'm all worked up and anxious to go home. But it's become an effective form of foreplay; we can barely keep our hands to ourselves when we see each other.

Just now, I'm trying to ignore a text from him. I want to read it in private, not around Emmett, nor under Jessica's lethal gaze. But privacy is hard to come by around here unless I sneak to the bathroom for the dozenth time. It's occupied right now, however. I already checked.

Emmett will probably accuse me of having a "problem" soon. Perhaps he'll imply that I'm ingesting too much cafeteria food. That should be nice and embarrassing.

I'm just about to attempt a bathroom break again when I hear Mr. Lowery's voice on the call-light intercom.

"I need Bella in here. Quick!" He sounds strained and short of breath. I alter my course and head for his room.

When I get there, he's lying back on the bed, his hand grasping around his chest and his eyes wide and panicked.

"I don't feel good," he says immediately. "I need you to call my kids. I need to see my granddaughter."

I'm alarmed. "What do you mean, Mr. Lowery? Are you hurting?" I grab a machine to take his blood pressure. He shakes his head when I approach him, but doesn't fight me when I take his arm.

"No, no, no, no, no! I need to see my kids, Bella. I'm about to die. I need to see my kids." He's moving his legs around in the bed, restless. The blood pressure cuff is inflating when he pushes me aside and tries to get out of bed, obviously distressed. I've never seen him act this way before, and his erratic behavior has my heart racing.

I push him back down. "I need you to tell me what's wrong, Mr. Lowery. Are you having chest pain? Are you hurting?"

"I can't breathe. I need to see my kids. I need to see Carla."

"Here, let me check your oxygen level. You may need some oxygen."

"I need you to call my kids, Bella!" His voice is pleading more than demanding. I wrestle with him until he allows me to put the oxygen sensor on his finger and then hit the call button. His oxygen level is 100% on room air - probably better than mine.

Jessica's dull voice drones over the intercom. "May I help you?"

"Hey, I need you to page Dr. Cullen," I answer quickly.

"What for?" she responds suspiciously.

"Just do it, Jessica!" I snap.

I don't hear from her again. Mr. Lowery is trying to get out of bed again, still arguing that he's going to die. His blood pressure is stable and his heart rate is mildly elevated, though I'd attribute this to his obvious anxiety more-so than his supposed death sentence. After a few minutes of trying to calm him, Angela sticks her head in the door.

"Dr. Cullen is on the phone. Is there anything I can do?" she asks, her eyes apprehensive.

"Yes, can you stay with him while I talk to Ed—Dr. Cullen?"

"Of course." She slips into the room to take my place.

"Call my kids, Bella!" Mr. Lowery bellows after me.

Dr. Ellis is in the nurses station when I walk outside. She gives me a wry smile – one which I don't return – before I quickly pick up the phone and relay everything I know to Edward, not even bothering with a friendly hello. He asks me a quick round of questions: Is he having chest pain? What's his oxygen level? Heart rate? Is he coughing? He finally hesitates, as if considering, then tells me to order a stat V/Q scan along with some labs and an EKG. He promises to be here quickly. I order them myself, not willing to put any aspect of Mr. Lowery's life in Jessica's hands, then call the department to make sure they're ready for him so I can take him for the scan myself. We usually have people who will transport patients, but this feels like an urgent situation and I don't have the patience to wait.

Angela looks positively stricken when I reenter the room.

"He keeps telling me he's going to die," she says worriedly. As if I didn't already know this.

"I know. Will you go find Kate for me, please? And I need someone to help me take him for a V/Q scan."

Mr. Lowery turns at the sound of my voice. "Bella! Did you call my kids? Are they coming?"

Fuck, I forgot.

"What's their number, Mr. Lowery? I'll call them now." I pick up the phone in his room and he slowly rattles off a number, going back over it several times, as though he's too short of breath to complete it in one go. The sensor says his oxygen level is still 100%, his heart rate in the one-twenties. No one answers the call, so I leave a message saying that Mr. Lowery wants them to visit today – trying not to alarm them, as I still have no idea what the hell is going on – but he yells above me that it's urgent they come immediately and to bring Carla. All the while, there's a nagging in the back of my mind.

What was it we learned in school about feeling a sense of "impending doom?" I can't remember it now, and I've never had a patient actually tell me he was going to die. It's worrying the hell out of me that I can't remember.

Surely Edward knows what the heck is happening. _Where the fuck is he?_

"Alright, I called them," I say calmly, returning the phone to its cradle. "We're going to go for a test real quick, alright? Do you need something for pain before we go?" I figure I can give him something while we're pushing him down the hall if I have to. Maybe it will help him calm down.

He shakes his head, big turns from side to side, but then says, "My chest…my chest is tight. It hurts."

Angela returns a few seconds later with Kate, and I leave to quickly retrieve the pain medication. We decide to put him on oxygen for the trip downstairs, despite his perfect oxygen saturation, and Angela volunteers to help me make the trip. I raise the side-rails and Angela unplugs the bed as we get ready to leave. Kate is talking to Mr. Lowery, trying to make sense of his rambling. He's repeating "I want to see my granddaughter" and "Lord help me, I'm gonna die" over and over again in a strained, weary voice. He finally confesses that it feels like someone is sitting on his chest and that he can't breathe. Kate proposes that it sounds like he's having a heart attack. Something in my gut says it isn't so, but I don't question her.

I poke my head out of the room, desperately hoping to see Edward before we leave the floor. It feels like it's been forever since I've spoken to him, but in reality it hasn't been more than a few minutes. But at least I can trust him to actually come.

I grab the foot of the bed and begin maneuvering it out of the room while Angela pushes. I'm facing the hallway, pulling the equipment behind me, when Angela lets out a very loud and very uncharacteristic "Holy shit!"

I turn around to see Mr. Lowery sprawled on his back atop the bed, his mouth gaping wide and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. He's perfectly still, without even the slight rise and fall of his chest to indicate he's still breathing.

Holy shit, indeed.

I don't give Angela any sort of warning; I yell out into the hallway that we need the crash cart, then I push the bed back into the room with all my might and nearly run her over. She jumps out of the way just in time, and as soon as the bed is no longer blocking the door, I hit the code button and check Mr. Lowery for a pulse. He doesn't have one. Edward enters the room right as I'm about to start CPR, his eyes widening at the sight of Mr. Lowery's lifeless form, and Kate comes barreling down the hall with a crash cart immediately after.

Everyone who says time stands still during a crisis is wrong. It speeds up. It goes so fast that you nearly get left behind, and the chaos that ensues is enough to overwhelm and frighten. I do chest compressions, concentrating on my solitary task, counting in my head to stay focused, and Edward barks out orders. He seems confident, but a glance into his eyes reveals a trace of apprehension that no one else can see. Because in the end, no one wants a doctor who isn't completely confident in everything he does. Yet in the end, it's the same fear for your patient that drives you to second-guess yourself and make educated, realistic choices. Choices which will save your patient's life.

In the end, we're all just humans. Some of us are better than others. For some, working in healthcare is a lifestyle; for others, it's an obligation, just a job in which they find no pleasure.

Edward is the former. And this is why, in the end, Mr. Lowery regains a pulse. It's why he preserves his pulse, strong and steady, for the whole trip to ICU. It's why his heart is still beating when he's transferred to another bed and hooked up to lines and a ventilator.

I stay and help out until the unit nurses make it clear I'm in their way. I call Mr. Lowery's children again; this time someone answers and informs me they're already on their way to the hospital. I tell them where to go when they arrive and assure them they'll get an update when they get here.

Edward hangs around writing orders, and I timidly make my way over to him.

"Do you need anything from me?" I ask softly. He looks up, his eyes weary and sad, but I think about the relationship he had with Mr. Lowery and wouldn't expect less.

"I'm fine." His tone is short, and he immediately turns back to the chart. Feeling dismissed, I wander away slowly, trying not to let his tone sting. I glance back one last time before leaving, but his head is still down, his hand tugging the strands of his hair anxiously as he scribbles something on a page.

The rest of the evening passes slowly. I never read Edward's text – I don't want it tainted with his bluntness from our last encounter, even if his mood had nothing to do with me. Instead, I spend the time catching up on charting and taking care of my other patients, lamenting over the fact that it's proven to be another unpredictable, busy day of work. Except this time, an ill feeling looms.

This time, before shift change, Kate calls me into her office. Jasper is with her, his presence strange, his smile strained and apologetic. I sit down in a chair and they both remain standing in front of the desk. Their figures are ominous as they loom before me, each tall and threatening.

Kate looks at Jasper, clearly waiting for him to begin. He sighs.

"Bella… I'm going to need to ask you a few questions." His slight accent isn't as soothing as it once was. There's an edge to it, something I can't quite figure out. "According to our records, at two fifty-three this afternoon, you accessed the narcotic drawer for Demerol in the Pyxis. Did you remove any Demerol?" His demeanor is uncharacteristically professional.

I think a moment. "Yes… I took some for Mr. Lowery. Kate, you were there when I gave it to him." I look at her, wondering what the hell he's getting at. But her face is a blank mask; she even stares at the floor, purposefully avoiding eye contact.

"Well," Jasper finally goes on, "It says about twelve minutes later you accessed the drawer for both MS Contin and Vicodin, and both drawers were emptied. There's a total of fifty-two pills missing." My mind whirls with this information – the only way to get in the Pyxis medication cart under my name is to put in my code and press my finger onto a sensor for fingerprint verification. Half the time, the damn thing won't take my own fingerprint, much less someone else's.

So how did this happen?

Jasper bites his lip and looks down, but when he raises his eyes again, his gaze is steady. "What I need to know is if you took the pills, Bella." His voice is strong and unwavering. A part of me wonders if he really suspects I did this. If there's an underlying accusation hidden in his tone. "If you admit to it now, the repercussions will be less severe. Otherwise, we'll have to start an investigation until we figure this out."

I was strong during the code. I was strong during Edward's brief bout of indifference afterwards.

But now, for the first time during this incredibly shitty day, I feel like crying.

* * *

References:

**Demerol, Vicodin, MS Contin - **narcotic pain medicine

**V/Q scan - **a lung perfusion scan that evaluates the perfusion of blood and air throughtout the lungs

**EKG **- an electrocardiogram, which evaluates the electrical activity, or "rhythm," of the heart

**Pyxis** - a machine that holds medications, usually narcotics. As Bella said, this one is accessed by typing in a code and scanning your fingertip.

-x-x-

I tried to answer all your questions last chapter - there were more than usual, about different things - but if I missed you please feel free to ask again. Actually, hitting me up on twitter is probably easiest, cause my inbox is a scary place at times.

Thanks to ms-ambrosia and passionmama for all they do for this story! Also, this story was nominated in the Twinklings Walk of Fame Awards for the Hot Lips category - big thanks to whoever nominated it! You can vote for your favs here: http : / / twinklingswfa . blogspot . com / p / voting . html - just remove the spaces.

So, what do we think of Edward's behavior at the end? To the "I love you?" What the heck happened to Mr. Lowery? And for the love of Pete, where have the narcs gone? I love hearing what you think!

I'm **mybluesky1 **on twitter. I'll update again as soon as I can.

xoxo


	22. Chapter TwentyOne

A/N: Most of you guys suspect Jessica, but nearly all of you agree that she's not smart enough to pull it off. LOL. Poor girl. She never gets any credit around the fandom.

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

-x-x-x-x-

**Chapter 21 - I'm So Not Fine**

I pee in a cup, and the lab technician tells me to have a great night as I'm exiting the hospital.

I don't think I could possibly feel any worse about the situation. I had to stay an hour late while Kate and Jasper interrogated Angela, Aro, Jessica, and Shelly, each separately and behind the closed door of the office. I insisted I didn't take the medications and Jasper says he believes me, but it doesn't change the fact that they were stolen under my name. I've thought again and again about what could have happened, and the only thing that makes sense is that I forgot to log out when I was getting the Demerol for Mr. Lowery.

Other nurses have forgotten to log out. Emmett forgets all the time, but I always clear his screen if I see it left open on the computer... not that he's setting a great example. It's foolish, and someone obviously forgot to extend the same courtesy to me.

I slide into my car and crank the heat as high as it will go. I have a missed text message from Edward.

_Having a drink with Emmett – can I come over tonight? You can meet us if you want. Love you._

I balance the phone in my hand and stare at the tiny screen. It glows brightly and illuminates the dark interior or my car.

As wonderful as getting shit-faced sounds right now, I'm just not in the mood to be around people. _Have fun_, I text back. _See you in a bit_.

I want Edward with me – I need a strong shoulder to cry on – but he had a bad night too, and it's not really fair of me to insist he not go out and then worry him all night with my drama. He deserves to let loose, to have a little fun. My sob-fest can wait a few hours. Besides, he'll probably need a few drinks in his system to deal with this shit. Lord knows it would have helped me.

I pull out of the parking lot and drive home slowly. I walk straight to my kitchen and open my freezer. All I have is tequila. I take a shot, then another, before getting ready for bed and willing myself to fall asleep. But I toss and turn for over an hour, flashes of my day replaying through my mind and refusing to let me rest. The regret is thick as it wraps around me, its hold uncomfortable and stifling. I regret not getting Edward to Mr. Lowery's room sooner, not getting his family there in time, and not saying something comforting to the man before he passed. I don't know that he'll wake up; do-overs in life are no guarantee. I also regret not logging out of the Pyxis when I got his Demerol. I regret offering the pain medicine to begin with. What if it was the final straw? What if that dose of Demerol is what pushed him over the edge and killed him?

At the time, I thought Mr. Lowery was anxious. Something was wrong, I knew, but I didn't think he was really going to die. And I regret not believing him.

I take another shot of tequila, then lie on the couch and watch old TV shows. They're no comfort. I ache for Edward; the need would be embarrassing if I wasn't so lonely and dispirited.

I doze around eleven-thirty. At one-forty, I wake up again, feeling unrested. My apartment is empty and it only takes a moment to gather that Edward still hasn't come home.

I check for missed calls on my cell phone, but there are none. When I dial Edward's number, it rings and rings until I suspect it's going to click over to voicemail. But then someone answers. At first, all I can hear is distorted, loud music in the background. And then a voice, but it's all wrong – the tone, the pitch, the femininity.

"Hello?" she says. Her voice is loud as she competes with the music. When I don't immediately respond, she repeats herself. "Hello?"

"Who is this?" I finally force out. I'm surprised, unpleasantly so, and my tone betrays the sudden confusion that constricts my chest.

"What? I can't hear you," she yells.

"Where is Edward?" I ask, raising my voice to be heard. I can't be positive, but the woman sounds suspiciously like Dr. Ellis. I pray that I'm wrong, but then again, I can't imagine a single alternative that offers much consolation.

"Hold on, I can't—outside—Bella–" Her words are fractured, probably the ill effect of a bad reception. But she knows my name, so either it showed up on his phone when I called or she recognizes my voice. Last week, I snatched up Edward's phone when he wasn't looking and programmed myself as _Naughty Nurse_, along with a cartoon picture of a nurse in a thigh-high stockings and a garter belt, but it's highly possible he's changed the settings since then.

I try to wait patiently, assuming she's going outside where it's quieter, but the line suddenly goes dead. When I call back, it goes to voicemail.

I call Emmett, but it hits his voicemail as well. Does anyone know how to properly use a phone around here? I leave him a fairly scathing message, lecturing him for not answering his phone during this obviously critical moment in my life, then call Edward again, fuming when I don't get a response.

This is officially the worst day ever. But it's technically tomorrow, so maybe it's the worst week ever? Well, except for Edward telling me he loves me. That was probably one of the best moments of my life.

Whatever. Right now just really, really sucks.

I stand to get more tequila, but there's barely half a shot remaining in the bottle.

Worst. Day. _Ever_.

On the way back to the living room, I stub my toe on the baseboard of the kitchen counter. It flippin' hurts and brings unwanted tears to my eyes, but I suspect this is the residual effect of an emotional night.

Stupid, shitty, craptastically sucky, emotional night.

There's nothing on TV except infomercials and some freakishly scary puppet show on the Adult Swim network. It's horrifically distracting for about fifteen seconds, but then it forces me to ponder the corrupt nature of humanity for actually creating this type of show which, in turn, makes me think of Dr. Ellis.

Oh how I _loathe _Dr. Ellis right now, with her big, perfect tatas and her perfectly glamorous, stupid red hair. She was there during the code. I saw her sitting in the nurses station, looking all smug and perfect. She probably wants to sabotage me, make me lose my job and license so that I can't work with Edward anymore. It's no secret that she still likes him. She even said so herself.

So what if _she _snuck into the medication room and stole all those narcotics?

Any regret I carried has morphed into anger, and I'm just downright pissed off about everything. It all boils down to some unknown person: the narcotics, Edward not being here, the toe. Yes, even my achy toe, because if whoever it was hadn't stolen all the narcotics, I maybe could sleep tonight and wouldn't have stubbed the blasted thing to begin with.

It may not be rational and I may not have proof, but right now, I feel better knowing I have someone to blame.

I start pacing after a few minutes, my mind racing with possibilities as it tries to put logic behind the accusation. When my phone rings, I don't hesitate to pounce on it, not even bothered that it's a number I don't recognize. It could still be Edward calling from a different number or, God forbid, Dr. Ellis calling me from her own phone.

The familiarity of the area code doesn't dawn on me until after I answer.

"Hello?"

"Bella?" I recognize the voice immediately. A surge of emotion nearly upends me, and I sit down so that I can deal with…whatever this is.

The one person I'm not prepared to deal with. Not now. He's the one person I haven't heard from in months, since he waved at me from his apartment with pitying looks and an empty promise to be friends one day.

"Alec?" His name is spit out in disbelief.

"Heeey! How are you?" His words slur, and I can immediately tell he's drunk. And why wouldn't he be? It's almost five am in Florida.

"Umm…fine." I don't elaborate. I also don't ask him how he's doing because, frankly, there's nothing in world less interesting to me than his wellbeing right now.

"How's Seattle?" he goes on. Apparently, he wants to make small talk. It's two o'clock in the morning; I'm stressed and paranoid and have resorted to making irrational, unwarranted accusations against people I don't really know, yet I have no intention of stopping this lewd behavior. This is clearly a test to my sanity and, frankly, the outcome isn't looking so hot.

And he wants to know how Seattle is…

"What do you want?" I bluntly ask him.

"Ouch." He sounds a little offended. "It's been months since we talked. I miss yooouuu." More slurred words. I want to throw up.

"You're drunk and it's five o'clock in the morning there. Why would you ever think it's okay to call me at five o'clock in the morning?"

"You get up at five for work," he says simply, and my eye roll is imminent. Holy mother of time zones, does no one in Florida get that there's a three-hour time difference between us now? This is getting ridiculous.

"It's not five here, it's two. And I'm sleeping. So if there's no point to this call, I'm going back to bed."

"Geez, Bella. I didn't mean to make you mad."

"Then don't call me at two in the morning." I'm being unusually bitchy, and I may regret it later, but not a single fiber of my being cares right now.

"So that's how it's going to be?" He sounds put-out. "You know, I would've thought we could at least be friends one day."

"Why?" I ask in disbelief. "Why would we ever be friends?"

"We used to be _best_ friends."

"No, we didn't. We were never best friends, which is why our relationship didn't last," I angrily inform him. "That and the God-complex you were starting to nurture. No one takes interns seriously anyway, Alec. Haven't you watched Grey's Anatomy? They run and get labs all day and they don't know jack shit, so if you had a God-complex then, I bet it'll get a million times worse in a few years. You cheating on me was the best thing that could have happened, because I would have gone crazy dealing with your rapidly inflating ego."

Alec starts to say something. He's yelling, I think, and clearly pissed off about my jab at interns, but I don't care. I hang up the phone and let out a frustrated sigh. When he calls me right back, I throw the phone at my entertainment stand, hitting the wood and causing the cell phone to pop apart into half a dozen pieces.

I've never been one for breaking things, but damn, that felt pretty awesome.

But then it doesn't, just as quickly. The elation I get from breaking my cell phone rapidly dissolves into despair. Edward still isn't here. He's apparently with _her_, the woman who may very well be plotting my demise. I can't receive his call now – assuming he _finally _tries to call me, that is – but I don't make an effort to try to piece my cell phone back together because, I realize, I kind of don't want to hear what he has to say anymore.

I mope on the couch for a while and try not to cry. It would make me feel much better, crying, but once I start, I may never stop. I'm surprised when there's a knock on my door, my reaction immediate; for all the resentment I was just harboring, it doesn't impede my progress as I scramble off the couch and hasten to answer. Because I know who it has to be – the only person I'm expecting tonight.

I'm torn between wanting to yell at Edward, slapping him ala Scarlet O'Hara, and breaking down against his chest.

But he's not alone. Dr. Ellis stands with him, and he's drunk, more drunk than I've ever seen him. His eyes are tired and unfocused and his cheeks are flushed; he's leaning towards the door frame, supporting himself with one hand so that he doesn't topple over. Dr. Ellis's usually curly, glorious hair is a little flat and she looks uncomfortable, but otherwise quite sober.

"Hey beautiful," Edward slurs as soon as he sees me. He steps towards me and plants a sloppy kiss on my cheek, nearly knocking me over with his unstable weight. "God, I missed you."

Dr. Ellis meets my eyes and smiles, but it's slightly pained, like a grimace. "I wanted to make sure he got home okay. And, he uhh… he said he wanted to come here." It almost sounds like she's asking permission, so she must not be aware I've been waiting on him for hours. And what the hell is she doing, bringing him home?

"Where's Emmett?" I ask.

"I don't know. I never saw him." She looks confused.

I want to interrogate her – duct tape her to a chair, threaten her with little pinchy clothes pins until she tells me everything – but Edward is slumping against me while pathetically trying to molest my neck with his mouth. He must have forgotten our audience, or else he's just kinky when he's drunk. Nonetheless, I'm just a tiny bit thrilled that, even drunk, he chooses to kiss me over her. That he _missed _me.

But when he tries to grope my boob, I have to call an intervention. I grab his hand and force a smile for Dr. Ellis.

"Oh. Well, umm… thanks for bringing him home." She nods, looking anywhere but at us. "Will you wait here just a second? I want to ask you something."

"Oh…sure."

I lead Edward to my bedroom and he follows willingly, stumbling once or twice and swaying heavily. I deposit him on my bed and try to leave, but he pulls me to him, whining and begging me to stay. I'm still a little irritated, but I can't help but briefly give in when he presses his lips to mine and slides his tongue into my mouth. He tastes like whiskey and comfort. He moans against my lips, his movements urgent, but as soon as he tries to roll on top of me, I pull away.

"I'll be right back," I promise. With my hands on his shoulders, I push him down on the bed, encouraging him to lie back. He nods and I take the opportunity to slip away and return to the living room. Dr. Ellis is still standing near the doorway. She fidgets and shifts uncomfortably, like she wants to be anywhere but here. I realize I forgot to invite her inside.

"Thanks for waiting," I say kindly, smiling through my exhaustion. I don't like her, but I can be nice if I need to be. I stand a few feet away from her and say, "Did you hear what happened to me today? About the narcotics?"

I watch her carefully. She frowns in confusion before finally shaking her head. "No."

"A lot of narcotics were missing from the Pyxis under my name," I quickly explain. "I think I forgot to log out or something. And I know you were there around the time it happened, during the code, so I was just wondering if you saw anything."

"Oh." She bites her lip pensively. I once read in Cosmo that people who bite their lip are trying to hide something. It said the same thing about eye contact, and she's definitely not looking at me right now. I know Cosmo isn't the most reliable source for detective training, but it all makes sense when you think about it. And besides, if it's good enough to help you catch a cheating man, it should be good enough to help you catch a drug thief.

Could she really be lying right now?

"No, I didn't see anybody," she finally says. "Sorry, that really sucks. You'll pass the drug test though, right?"

Does she _want _me to pass the drug test? I squint my eyes at her, searching for clues. She's kind of blurry, and when I squint really hard, her big, red hair fades together until her head looks like a giant jack-o-lantern. I think I'm either delusional or really, really tired.

"Yeah, of course. I took one tonight, actually," I say. "I guess the results will be back in a few days."

She nods. "Good."

We stand there a moment, neither of us speaking. Even a few errant seconds feels like the worst kind of awkward torture.

"So, uh…thanks again for making sure Edward got home safe," I say again.

"Oh, no problem. Sorry about the phone call earlier. I was going to ask you if you could come get him, actually, but then his battery died and I couldn't get your number. He seemed kind of upset tonight…"

I suspect his behavior has a lot to do with Mr. Lowery. But it was no secret that he was upset. It was written all over his face last night, after the code.

"I guess it was a rough day for both of us."

Another pained smile. I mirror her expression, leading her the short distance out the door. Dismissing her.

"Well, thanks for waiting. Have a good night, Victoria."

"You too."

When she's gone, I shut the door behind her, hesitating there just a moment. Then I turn and shut off the TV before making my way back to the bedroom. Edward is on his back, his face turned away and his chest rising and falling evenly. His breaths are deep and heavy. He's out cold.

I pull his shoes off, then his pants. His shirt stays on because I don't have the energy to wrestle it from his dead weight. I crawl into bed next to him but face away. I'm still not comfortable with the emotions warring through my mind – a part of me wants to cling to Edward, unconscious or not, while a part of me just wants some space. I give in to the latter, hugging my pillow for comfort.

But my side of the bed is cold, and sleep doesn't come easily.

-x-x-

Edward doesn't get out of bed until almost noon. I've been up since eight, tinkering around the house and cleaning things that aren't even dirty. I'm doing anything I can to entertain myself, to keep my mind off things. I'm already on my third cup of coffee when Edward stumbles into the kitchen. He has bloodshot eyes, wild hair, and wrinkled clothes. He groans pathetically as he rubs his eyes and squints in the light.

"Morning," I mumble. I barely look at him, but he's too hung over to notice.

"Morning. Is there more coffee?"

I gesture to the coffee maker. I've had a pot warming there for a while. Edward helps himself.

"What happened last night?" He takes his blackened coffee and sits at my hand-me-down kitchen table. My scrubbing doesn't falter as I answer.

"Well, you went out with Emmett, supposedly, then didn't answer your phone for several hours until you were finally escorted here in a drunken stupor by your ex-girlfriend." I keep my voice casual, hiding my underlying annoyance at the whole ordeal.

Edward groans again and rubs at his eyes with his fingers. "I feel like shit," he finally responds. I don't say anything. He kind of looks like shit, too, I think, but pointing that out won't really make me feel better. At least not in the long-run. I continue working in the kitchen, scrubbing the counters, the backsplash, the oven door.

"Are you okay?" he asks after a moment.

"I'm fine." I'm so _not _fine.

"What's wrong?" He knows me too well, even hung over. I sigh and toss the towel down.

"Well first, when you asked if you could come over, I assumed you meant the same night. Not at two-thirty in the morning. Also, it doesn't sit well with me when I call my boyfriend's phone and his ex answers."

"What? Who answered my phone?" He sounds surprised. Was he even listening before? He really must have been out of it last night… and this morning, apparently.

"Dr. Ellis."

"Tori?"

"Yes, _Tori _answered your phone. And brought you here. She took _care _of you." I say her name with more venom than I mean to, but the last thing I want to hear is him referring to her in cute, disgusting little nicknames. Not when he was with her all night instead of me.

"God, I'm so sorry, Bella. I didn't know. I guess I drank more than I meant to…" His remorse does nothing to abate my bitterness.

"Where was Emmett at, anyway?"

"Rosalie was there and they left together," he explains. He stands and makes his way over to me. I ignore him, keeping my eyes lowered and body shifted away while I clean. "Shit, Bella. I'm _really_ sorry. I didn't even realize I stayed out that late. I was just… yesterday was fucked up, you know?"

I glance over at him and see the pain in his eyes. I immediately soften. Yes, yesterday _was _fucked up. And instead of comforting and seeking comfort in the person I love, I'm taking my anger out on him. I'm hurting us both.

I set the towel down again. "I know, you're right," I concede, sighing. "Are you okay?"

He seems relieved as he pulls me to him and wraps his arms around my waist. He's warm and comfortable and feels like sweet relief. "I will be," he says quietly.

"Do you think Mr. Lowery will be okay? Do you know what happened?"

"He had a PE," he answers. "It showed up on the VQ scan. He had an emergency embolectomy and he's on blood thinners now, so all we can do is cross our fingers…"

"The way he acted was really scary," I mumble. Edward holds me tighter and kisses my forehead.

"I know." We stand that way a moment, embracing and supporting. He finally kisses my forehead again, then my lips, his touches soft, and says, "I love you, Bella. I'm really, really sorry."

I can't prevent the timid smile from forming. "I love you too."

-x-x-

After his coffee, Edward takes a shower. I already had one when I woke up, so I continue tinkering around the apartment while I wait for him. I still haven't told him about the narcotics, not wanting to interrupt my surprisingly good, albeit brief, mood. But it has to be done.

I tap lightly on the bathroom door, then let myself inside and sit on the counter. Edward hasn't heard me. The water falls in heavy sheets against the floor of the tub, but otherwise, he's quiet as he washes.

"Hey, Edward?" I call out.

There's a brief pause. "Yeah?"

It's now or never. "After that whole thing with Mr. Lowery yesterday, I got pulled into Kate's office and they told me a bunch of narcotics are missing under my name from the Pyxis."

Edward pokes his head from around the shower curtain. He's frowning, his brows furrowed in confusion. His hair is dark and wet and plastered to pale skin. "What? How the hell did that happen?"

"I don't know." I shrug helplessly. "I may have forgotten to log out or something. I don't know how else it would have happened."

"What are they doing about it?"

"I had to take a drug test. There's going to be an 'investigation,' whatever the hell that means."

"Aren't there cameras in that room or something?"

"I don't think so." I've never seen them if there are.

"Well fuck, Bella. I'm sorry." He shuts the water off and snatches the curtain open, then pulls a towel around his waist before walking over to me. "I didn't answer your call last night," he says suddenly, as if in revelation. He looks incredibly guilty.

"You were drunk. It's not like you knew," I offer.

"I shouldn't have gotten drunk…"

"There's nothing wrong with getting drunk, Edward. God, I don't know how you could avoid it in this profession. We'd all go insane otherwise."

"I guess," he says quietly. He's thoughtful.

"It happened around the time of the code anyway. I was in the room helping and then went off the floor to take Mr. Lowery to the unit, so Kate vouched for me. Hopefully they'll figure it out."

"I'm sure they will." He leans against the counter beside me, his wet arm touching mine. He stares ahead for a moment and appears to be thinking.

"The only people working were Aro, Shelly, Angela, me, Kate, and Jessica," I say. "I don't think Jessica is even smart enough to know how to pull meds from those things. Kate and Angela were helping me, and I can't see Shelly stealing narcotics. I don't know about Aro…"

"Angela wasn't there during the code," he interjects.

"Yes she was," I argue. "She helped me out almost the whole time."

"Are you sure, Bella? There were a lot of people in the room."

"Yes, I'm sure. And anyway, Dr. Ellis was there too."

He's confused. "Dr. Ellis?"

"Yes. She was in the nurses station during the code. No one was around to see her…so what if she took them?"

"Why would she take them?" He sounds doubtful, and I'm irrationally annoyed that he's sticking up for her.

"She hates me," I explain. "Or maybe she's a pill popper. I don't know. She gave me a look."

"A look?" Now he's incredulous.

"Yes, a look. I can't explain it. You would've had to have seen it." God, I sound stupid. "I just have a feeling, Edward," I persist.

"Just because she gave you a look doesn't mean she stole narcotics. She could lose her medical license for that."

"Well we could lose our nursing licenses. _Someone_ took the drugs."

"It takes over ten years to become a surgeon, Bella. Most surgeons aren't going to throw that away for a handful of drugs…"

I hop down from the counter and glare at him. "What, so her license is more valuable than a nurses'? I've read about plenty of doctors who have to go to rehab for doing drugs," I say heatedly. "And _nurses _care about their licenses too. It may not take as long to get it, Edward, but you can't work as a nurse anymore once you lose it. Some of us like our job." I snatch the bathroom door open and walk out, Edward quickly following behind me. He grabs his clothes from the floor while trailing me through the apartment.

"That's not what I meant, Bella," he apologizes, his voice sincere. He starts slipping his old clothes on right in the middle of my living room.

"Then what did you mean?"

"I just don't get why you're accusing her. Because she was there rounding on patients?"

"I don't get why you're _defending_ her."

"I'm not defending her, I just don't really agree—"

"You _are_ defending her," I interrupt. "Don't try to sugarcoat it."

"So what if I am?" He's annoyed now, too. "It's an unfair accusation. If we hadn't dated, you wouldn't even consider her."

"Probably not, because then the narcotics wouldn't have been stolen." A childish blow on my part. I regret the words – the incredulous look on his face – but I can't take them back. "So you think she's trying to frame you?" he asks in disbelief.

"Yeah, why not? Who the hell else would have taken them? Sweet little Shelly? Everyone else was in the code. And she still likes you, Edward. I told you that before."

He has his boxers and pants on. His shirt isn't even in the room, but I'm too mad to enjoy the view. "She likes you too, Bella," he argues. "I know she didn't steal them. She's not that spiteful."

I suddenly feel overwhelmed. I'm pissed. I'm upset that he's defending her rather than trying to see my logic. I'm upset that he didn't answer my phone call last night, and I'm upset that he was with her instead of me. _I _needed him. And instead of feeling comforted, I had to deal with Alec's sudden, annoying persistence, which made me feel even worse when I was already alone and distressed. And he was with _her_.

It's infuriating.

Tears well up in my eyes, but they're not sad tears. They're fed up, angry, exasperated tears.

My jaw is clenched, and there's _so much_ I want to say to him. Things I'll regret. Things I don't mean. I finally manage to get the right words out. "Just go home."

Edward's eyes widen in surprise. He almost looks afraid. "Why?"

"I need some space. I barely got any sleep last night and I just need some goddamn space right now."

Annoyance flashes over his features, marring his underlying emotion: panic. "So I disagree with _one _thing and you kick me out?"

"You're so clueless right now, Edward," I angrily spit at him. I stomp past him, to my bedroom, and begin searching for his shirt. I find it on the floor and throw it at his chest. "Why don't you go to _her _house? You spent all night with her, might as well follow up with some cuddling and shit today." The words are flying out of my mouth without thought or permission, but I don't have the energy to make them stop.

"I didn't mean for that to happen," Edward tries to explain. "Nothing happened with her. You know that. She was just at the bar…"

"I don't care right now," I snap. "Just _leave_."

"No," he argues hotly. "I'm not going to let you just push me away…"

"I don't want you here!" I yell at him. "Do you not get that? _I don't want you here_. I need some space right now. Leave, or I will."

"Bella-" he starts, but he's left in the living room, dumbfounded, as I march back to my bedroom and slam the door shut. The bedroom is bathed in a hideous dark hue from the gray light outside, mirroring my mood. A sharp pain tears through my chest as it threatens to rip open.

I bite my lip hard. Silent tears stream down my face, but I don't make a sound. I want him to leave. I want him to pound on the door and come for me.

I hate the way he makes me feel. So unsure. So dependent. So jealous.

I throw myself on the bed and sob hopelessly into my pillow. I want to go back to yesterday, to when everything was good and I didn't have these feelings and my career wasn't on the line. I want Dr. Ellis to go away and I want this whole thing to have never happened.

The room gets brighter as the day progresses. My eyes eventually dry and my thoughts go numb, so much so that moving requires a conscious effort. But Edward never comes.

* * *

A/N: Aww, their first fight. :( sad face. I got lots of Nurse Jackie references on the Pyxis thing. I've actually never watched that show and have no idea how to manipulate the Pyxis. But I _have _been interrogated when narcotics went missing on the floor where I was working. It wasn't under my name though, thank gosh.

Passionmama and ms-ambrosia were fantastic, as usual.

**PE - Pulmonary embolism - **a blockage of a main artery of the lungs by a clot. Can be fatal and can cause the sense of "doom," such as Mr. Lowery knowing with certainty that he was about to die.

**Embolectomy** - surgery to remove the clot.

I know some of you read this because it's all light and happy, but this had to happen. Just trust me, I've been planning it since day one. I promise not to drag out the drama and I promise a HEA.

So who do we suspect now? Still Jessica? Dr. Ellis? Was Bella wrong for accusing Dr. Ellis, or was Edward wrong for defending her? I'd love to hear what you think!

I'm **mybluesky1 **on twitter. I'll update as soon as I can.

xoxo


	23. Chapter Twenty Two

A/N: I didn't realize people would find the last chapter so angsty when I originally planned for it. My bad, I'm total fail on that...hopefully this one will make up for it a little. I tried to get this out last night but I was fail on that too, so...Happy late Valentines Day! xo

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

-x-x-x-x-

**Chapter 22 - The Important Thing**

"Are you kidding me? Who the hell would steal narcs? A bunch of fucking crackheads work here, I swear to God. I bet it was Aro. I mean, shit, have you seen him lately?"

Emmett's always able to cheer me up. Kind of.

"What's wrong with Aro?" I ask curiously. We're both cleaning up an unresponsive patient; Emmett is doing a dressing change on her sacrum while I help hold her over. It's the day after the second shittiest day of my life, and I haven't spoken to Edward. But we're both working today and yesterday was when I asked for space, so it's not surprising.

Also, my phone is still broken.

"Any grown man would have to be on drugs to act like him. It's not natural." He soaks a gauze in saline and starts packing it in the wound. I hold my breath so I can't smell the stench. My back is starting to hurt from all the pulling.

"I don't think it was Aro," I say.

"Who do you think it is?"

"I don't know."

"You don't suspect anyone?"

"Oh, I suspect people," I assure him. "But it's unjustified, apparently, and saying it out loud kind of makes me sound like an asshole or something. Or so I've gathered."

I've done a lot of thinking since I made Edward leave. In the end, he's right – I don't have a solid reason to suspect Dr. Ellis, so I can't really fault him for not agreeing with me. I'm still mad that he was with her all night, but the resentment has faded. I feel confident that I can have an adult conversation with him today without going all Russell Crowe and breaking more phones. Hell, if I'm lucky, there might even be great make-up sex.

Little toes are crossed.

"Well we both know I'm an asshole, so let's hear it," Emmett says. "From one asshole to another."

"Fine. I think it was Dr. Ellis."

"Really?" His reaction reminds me of Edward, but I don't really care if Emmett disagrees with me. "Why?"

"Just a feeling," I say vaguely. This is true. I don't really feel like getting in to the things that have caused this feeling, however. He probably won't believe me anyway.

"Hmm. Yeah, I can see that." He starts ripping large pieces of tape and plastering them to the dressing on the patient's bottom. "I mean, you stole her man. Girls get crazy about that shit."

I roll my eyes. "I'm being serious, Emmett."

"So am I. Do you not remember that woman who drove across the country wearing a diaper? And here I thought it was something lame like Aro popping pills. But your theory is much more dramatic – a woman scorned plotting revenge by trying to sabotage your medical career. It's very _General Hospital_ of you." He initials and dates the dressing with a black sharpie.

"Dr. Ellis isn't 'scorned,'" I argue. "They were broken up long before I came along." We roll the patient onto her back and begin covering her with the sheets. She's contracted, her knees drawn up stiffly to her chest, so we have to wedge a pillow between her legs. Emmett and I both grab one side of the pad underneath her and pull her up in the bed. It's almost like clockwork.

"Not _that _long. Only a few months," he corrects me.

"Whose side are you on?"  
"I'm on your side, Pockets. I think it's absolutely atrocious that she's trying to steal meds under your name and sabotage your career." His mockery is teasing, maybe even a little affectionate.

"It _is _atrocious," I agree.

"Have you talked to Edward?"

"No, not since yesterday. Why? Have you?"

"Yeah, I saw him this morning."

"Oh." I pause. The confirmation of Edward being at the hospital right now is both thrilling and unnerving. I miss him terribly.

"He said you're not answering his calls."

"My phone is broken," I quickly explain.

"Yeah, well… he told me how he fucked up with the whole Dr. Ellis thing," Emmett goes on. "But just so you know, she wasn't at the bar when I was there. Edward didn't know she was gonna show up, and there were lots of people from work there… not just her. They're friends though, you know? I know you hate her, but they were friends before they even got together. And he was pretty upset about that patient the other night, so maybe you should cut him a little slack."

Emmett's sudden wisdom is a bit surprising.

"I don't care that she was there," I argue. "But she brought him to my apartment in the middle of the night and then, the next morning, he defended her when I said something about it being her taking the narcotics."

"But you don't have proof that she took the narcs," he points out. "You know I love ya, Pockets. But from one asshole to another, that's a pretty serious accusation."

"You _just _accused Aro," I remind him in exasperation.

"No, I _suspect_ Aro. But I have no proof, so I won't accuse him."

"It's not like I took it to administration. I was just saying something to Edward, for crying out loud." I begin straightening up the room, throwing away paper and clearing leftover dressing supplies. Emmett crushes pills and begins mixing them in applesauce.

"And you're pissed that he didn't agree with you? See, this is why I never understand women. You want us to think for ourselves, yet you get mad when we have our own opinion on something."

"You're delusional, Emmett. _And _you're missing the point. I never said he had to agree with me."

"If he didn't have to agree, then why are you mad that he disagreed?"

"Look, don't judge me," I warn him. "You weren't there. It was a very emotional moment in my life. _And _you didn't answer your phone the night before, asshole. Way to be there for a friend."

"You didn't want me," he accuses. "You wanted Edward."

"I'd talk to you as a last resort. Edward wasn't the only one upset that night."

"Sorry about that," he says, but I don't detect a single trace of remorse. "You should be talking to Edward. He's really hard on himself sometimes, you know. Apparently, they did a doppler on Lowery and he had a DVT in his right leg that everyone missed. Edward thinks it's his fault for not catching it."

I pause, letting this information sink in. A DVT? But there were no signs…

"What? He didn't have any signs of a DVT," I protest, as if Emmett is lying. But I know he isn't.

"Yeah, a lot of people don't. And anyway, you should probably tell Edward that. I'm sure he'd appreciate hearing it more than I would."

I throw the last of the trash away, then tie a knot in the biohazard bag that holds the dirty dressing. I discard my gloves and douse my hands with alcohol foam.

"You got it from here?" I ask before leaving. Emmett has a spoonful of applesauce in his hand as his giant frame hovers over the tiny woman on the bed. He nods.

"Yep."

I pause on my way out the door. "Hey, Emmett?"

He turns to look at me with raised eyebrows. "Yeah?"

"Thanks."

-x-x-

On my lunch break, I slip down to the unit to check on Mr. Lowery. It's not visiting hours, so no family is in his room. It's dim and quiet, the only noise coming from the steady, consistent hum of the ventilator. The tube going down his throat looks painful. There's a bite block around it, and I can see a little dried blood on the corner of his lip from where he likely bit his tongue.

Poor guy.

I grab a wet wipe from the box on his table and prepare to wipe his mouth with it. "This is going to be cold," I warn him. He doesn't respond and the temperature has no affect. But I believe, wholeheartedly, that people who are sedated can sometimes hear you.

I pull one of the bulky, wooden chairs close to his bed and sit down. For a while I just sit there, thoughtful, while I enjoy the peacefulness of his quiet room.

"I got really mad at Edward last night," I say eventually. "He went out drinking and I couldn't get a hold of him. Then I found out his ex-girlfriend was with him, but he just saw her at the bar. They didn't plan to hang out or anything, I don't think. But I got jealous, and we got into an argument and he took up for her so I made him leave."

I pause to gather my thoughts. It seems silly, like I'm talking to myself, but liberating at the same time. If Mr. Lowery was awake, he'd probably say something wise and opinionated about how I need to open my eyes and pull my head out of my ass. He'd tell me that life is too short to sit around being mad or jealous at things I can't change, that every second I spend upset with Edward is a second wasted.

It would be exactly what I need to hear.

"It was just a bad day for both of us, you know?" I go on. I'm suddenly feeling emotional, like I'm reliving the night. I'm not sure why this happens, but I have take a moment to gather myself before I can continue.

"I just feel really crappy," I finally continue. "When I first left Alec, I felt like I was finally gaining a little bit of my independence back. That I was gaining that part of myself back – the part that could function without a man. But after everything that happened yesterday, I wonder if that's true. Everything hurts and I feel crazy and I _hate _feeling this way. Like my happiness depends on him. Shouldn't _I _define my happiness?"

I place my hand on his. His skin is dry, his knuckles ashy, and eventually I'm compelled to grab the bottle of cheap lotion at his bedside and rub it into his hands. Patients on dialysis have dry skin; he'd be doing this himself if he could.

"I'm probably just being dramatic," I say, sighing. "It's just… I've never really felt this strongly about someone before. I was with my last boyfriend for convenience… does that make any sense? He was there and it was easier to be with him than without him.

"I'm sorry about your DVT, also. I'm just… I'm sorry." There aren't words adequate enough to express the remorse I feel.

"Anyway, I should probably be going." I sigh again. The thought of returning to work is depressing. There are other people – one person in particular – I'd rather be talking to, and my attention is currently divided. "Thanks for listening, Mr. Lowery. I'll come see you again soon."

I straighten his covers, then turn to leave the room. The curtain is partially drawn, which gave me a false sense of privacy, and when I step around it, I'm surprised to see Carlisle standing on the other side. There's a small table, almost like a podium, that's been raised to just below his chest. He's using the table as a prop for a chart, which he writes in without looking up. I almost think I'll be able to slip away without being noticed.

Of course, that just wouldn't be my luck.

"Bella?" he calls out. I abruptly stop walking and turn around to face him. He's dressed in surgical scrubs and a lab coat, his sneakers covered in baby blue shoe covers. I've never understood why surgeons go around the whole damn hospital wearing those things. Is it a weird fashion statement I don't know about? And doesn't it defeat their purpose?

"Yes?" I say politely. I haven't seen him since the incident with Mrs. Green, but I refuse to foolishly expect any kind of gratitude at this point. With the way my luck has been lately, he's probably gearing up to yell at me or stab me in the throat with his blue ink pen. And doesn't he know he isn't supposed to chart in blue? I bet he's doing it on purpose. He seems like the type of person that would think he's above those rules.

"I didn't know you were close to Mr. Lowery." His voice is almost conversational. I wonder if he heard everything I had said to Mr. Lowery while I was in the room.

"I didn't know you knew him at all."

"He's been a patient of mine for years. I put in his fistula and I did his embolectomy Wednesday."

"Oh." It never occurred to me that Carlisle was his doctor, too. "Well… I guess we both learned something then."

"You working today?"

"Yes." What gave it away, I wonder. The scrubs, the stethoscope, the flippin' name badge?

_Be nice, Bella. You're better than him._

He's also being eerily pleasant right now. It's awkward and unnatural, like seeing a fish on dry land. I want to kick him back into the water and pretend this never happened.

"Are you and Edward doing okay?" He continues to write while he talks to me, not giving me the benefit of his full attention. But I understand – his time is obviously more important than mine, after all. I have nothing better to do than stand around making insufferable small talk with my boyfriend's rude father.

"We're fine," I answer quickly. I wonder if he knows something I don't. "Why?"

"He didn't seem that well this morning. I can always tell when something is going on with him."

"Oh…"

"Look, Bella. I know you don't think very highly of me. And to be honest, I was a little hesitant about getting to know you at first. But I see Edward is serious about you and I promise to try and do better."

I really have no idea how to take that offer. He promises to _try_?

I glance around to make sure there's no one in hearing distance. Mr. Lowery's nurse is in the room with her other patient, and there's no one in this part of the hallway.

I straighten and step a little closer so I can be heard without raising my voice, which holds a false pleasantness. "While that's flattering and all, Dr. Cullen, you should probably save yourself the trouble. I don't really care what you think of me." I turn to walk away and he chuckles loudly.

"Every encounter with you is just full of surprises," he comments.

"I could probably say the same," I counter, pausing once more to glance back at him.

He regards me for a moment, thoughtful. "You'll be good for Edward," he finally says. He shakes his head and turns back to his charting. He doesn't elaborate, but he doesn't have to.

That was probably one of the best compliments he could ever give me.

-x-x-

"I bet if you flirt a little he'll give you the code to the OR locker room," Alice says suggestively. She cuts her eyes over to Dr. Black, who's charting with his head down, completely unaware that we're talking about him a short ten feet away.

I've already told Alice everything that happened. Unlike Edward and Emmett, she thinks it's totally plausible that Dr. Ellis may have stolen the meds. Everyone is guilty until proven innocent, she says. She also suggested I should do a little snooping on my own to try and figure out who the culprit is, because some things are better left to our own devices.

"Why would I want the code to the OR locker room?" I ask, making sure to keep my voice low.

"You can find her purse or something and check for the pills in there."

"That's crazy. No one in their right mind would carry fifty stolen pills around in their purse."

"Who says the person is in their right mind? Now we just have to figure out a way to get into the lockers in our break room. Then you can check Angela and Shelly's purses when they aren't around."

"What about Aro?"

"He doesn't have a locker. He just leaves his bag on the floor. It'll be easy to check his stuff…"

I'm startled when a chart is suddenly placed in front of me. "We'll need to get a central line on Mr. Sheridan since we can't get an IV. Do you mind placing a consult to the hospitalist? I already wrote the order." Dr. Black follows up his request with a friendly smile.

"Sure, Dr. Black." I keep a neutral expression as I take the chart and open it to the orders. Once Dr. Black is out of hearing range, I quickly turn to Alice in alarm.

"You have to call him," I tell her.

"What?"

"You have to call Edward and ask him to do the central line."

"Why do I have to call?"

"I haven't talked to him since I kicked him out of my apartment. I can't just page him now and ask him to come stick a catheter in my patient's neck like nothing ever happened."

"Well maybe you should talk to him," she huffs. "You're gonna have to see him."

"I know that. I'm going to talk to him tonight."

"What about when he comes up to do the line?" She cocks an inquisitive eyebrow. Yeah, we both know I'm fucked.

"I'll figure that out when he gets here, okay? Would you just call him?"

She eventually picks up the phone and puts out a page for him. I slip away to see my patients while I wait. I can't help but feel a mixture of nerves and excitement – my palms are sweating, my heart is racing, and I'm both terrified and anxious as hell. Why do I feel this way? Surely, things will be alright, but everything ended yesterday on such a strange and sour note that I'm not entirely sure.

I wish I could just talk to him. Why did I have to break my phone?

It takes him almost an hour to come, which gives me plenty of time to psych myself out. I wonder if he feels the same way I do knowing he's about to see me. I wonder if he procrastinated or if he's just busy.

He's standing in the nurses station. Alice hands him a central line kit and he looks at the patient board, probably confirming that I'm the patient's nurse. But Alice hasn't mentioned me, and his disappointment is obvious. Does he think I'm avoiding him? I guess it would make sense, seeing as how I haven't been able to answer my phone and I had Alice call him.

I take a deep breath and step into the station behind him. Alice excuses herself to get him some Lidocaine from the med room. She gives me a pointed look as she passes.

Edward takes a step forward to pick the patient's chart out of the rack. He turns around quickly, giving me no time to react, and freezes when he sees me. For a few seconds, we just stand there staring at each other. His expression is guarded, his eyes hidden behind the glasses he hardly ever wears. I can't tear my gaze away from his.

His guard is fleeting. His hesitance and insecurity slip through the cracks like seeping water. He shifts uncomfortably, still uncertain what to say, uncertain as to where we stand.

"Hey… how are you? Are you okay?" He sounds so unsure. I hate the circumstances that brought us here. I nod quickly.

"I'm okay. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I tried to call you…"

"My phone is broken," I quickly explain. "I'm not trying to avoid you."

His relief is almost palpable. "You're not?"

I shake my head. Alice reappears with the Lidocaine and a handful of flushes. "Here you go," she says as she dumps them into my hands. The plastic wrappers around the flushes crinkle noisily. Edward turns away at Alice's interruption and places the chart on the counter.

"Okay, I just need to check the order real quick," he says. "I can meet you in there if you want."

I nod. It's not what I want, but I don't let myself become disappointed. Now isn't the time to talk about our problems – to unleash emotions that could have us both distracted for the rest of the day.

This is probably why it's a bad idea to date your coworkers.

I go into Mr. Sheridan's room and tell him Edward is here to insert the central line. I raise the bed, lay Mr. Sheridan flat, and turn on the bright overhead light. Edward comes in a moment later with an ultrasound machine. We make eye contact briefly, then he turns to Mr. Sheridan and begins explaining what he's going to do. I wait patiently while he sets up his sterile field and preps Mr. Sheridan's chest. I can't help but watch him while he works – the way his hands move through his supplies, the way his eyelashes seem to fan across his cheek whenever he's looking down. There are noticeable dark circles beneath his eyes, and I realize he looks a little weary.

When he glances up and catches me staring, I blush and look away. It's hard to decipher Edward's reaction since half his face is hidden by a surgical mask. But he glances at me again, and pretty soon we're sneaking looks at each other when we think the other person isn't looking.

It's so awkward and obvious that it's almost comical.

"Will you open the Lidocaine for me?" he asks. I do as he says, actually struggling with the metal wrap around the top of the vial. Edward waits patiently until I finally peel it away, and the silence is almost suffocating. I miss his teasing.

I hold the vial out for him while he sticks a needle inside. He draws out a syringe full of the fluid before turning back to Mr. Sheridan again. I continue watching him. The width of the bed separates us and the distance seems insurmountable. I yearn to reach across and touch him, to run my hands through his hair and feel his lips on mine again.

Our communication is limited to his work – he asks me to hand him flushes, and I oblige without a word. When he's done, he asks me to have a chest x-ray ordered to confirm placement of the line. I thank him and tell him I'll clean up the room so that he can go, but he stays and helps anyway.

He stops me out in the hallway. "Do you think we can talk tonight?" he asks hopefully.

"I'd like that," I answer, smiling in reassurance. His returning smile is genuine, and I finally feel like we're going to be okay.

I order the x-ray and Edward sees his own patients while he's here. He eventually disappears into the dictation room. The urge to follow him is strong, but I have no idea what I'd say right now. There's not enough time to talk about what happened yesterday, and it seems silly to attempt any other subject until the air has been cleared.

Emmett opens the door and talks to him after a moment. I'm jealous, seeing their relationship thrive so naturally while I'm not able to speak to Edward or touch him the way I want. When Emmett leaves, my feet carry my forward of their own volition. I enter the room, pull up the tiny stool, and plop down behind Edward. He immediately looks back in surprise.

"Hey," he breathes. He turns to face me more fully, and I can tell he's pleased that I came. "Bella, I-"

"I miss you," I interrupt, cutting him off. His answering smile is breathtaking.

"Yeah?" he confirms. "Because I miss you so much…"

I smile timidly, happily, and then I reach forward to touch his face. I just want to feel his skin against my own again. His breath hitches and his eyes flutter closed, but he leans forward into my touch.

"I'm still mad at you," I tell him. His eyes open and I can plainly see the guilt there.

"I'm sorry," he says quickly. "I know I fucked up. I—"

"Let's talk later, okay?"

"Can I come by your place tonight?" He's hopeful again.

"Okay. What time do you get off?"

"Soon, I hope." He checks his watch. "I should be off before you."

"I can just go to your place when I get off," I offer.

"Sure, it doesn't matter."

My hand is still on his face. I can't bring myself to pull it away, to lose this connection with him. It's only been a day, but it feels like our fight has lasted for a century.

I trail my fingers across his cheek, down his neck. I grab the collar of his shirt and tug slightly. He leans forward from my pull, hesitating for just a moment before gently pressing his lips to mine. His movements are soft and timid, but as soon as I increase the pressure he opens his mouth to mine and claims my lips with a desperate longing. I sigh against him, and for the first time all day it no longer hurts to breathe.

-x-x-

"Your drug test was negative," Kate informs me in her office.

"Yeah?" I keep my face passive. I had known what the result would be, but it's still a great relief to hear.

"Yeah, but I guess you knew that, right?" She smiles sympathetically. I nod.

"I did."

"This should straighten out soon enough, Bella. Someone stealing that many meds won't be able to keep it a secret for long."

"I guess."

"They're changing the lock-out time on the Pyxis, too. It'll only keep you logged in a minute without activity now."

"Oh, well that's good." A few days too late, but good nonetheless. I smile to let her know I appreciate everything and she promises to keep me updated if she hears any news. On my way out, I stop to ask Emmett and Alice if they need anything, as they're both staying late to catch up on charting. They decline. My stomach twists from nerves as I make my way out of the hospital, and I think over what I'm going to say to Edward.

I won't accuse Dr. Ellis again – not without evidence. As much as I want it to be her, to have some sort of justification for my feelings, I think my attack stemmed from an unfortunate mixture of exhaustion and jealousy. It felt good having someone to blame for the way I felt, even if it was unjustified.

I'm not upset with Edward anymore. Not really. I wish he wouldn't have gotten as drunk as he did, but in the grand scheme of things, he _did _invite me along. Dr. Ellis's presence is more than likely just an unfortunate side effect of her existence. While I'm grateful she took care of him without taking advantage of the situation, I'm pretty sure he didn't ask for her help.

Besides, he wasn't the only one in the wrong. I picked a fight while we were both tired and he was hung over. I kicked him out, essentially slamming the door in his face in the process. And while I'm grateful for the space – for the thinking I was afforded while being denied the opportunity of spouting off things I would regret – I'm now ready to talk. I've had a days' worth of thinking, of pondering everything that happened, and now I'm ready for things to be right again.

I park behind Edward's car in the driveway and slowly make my way up the porch. The front door swings open before I have a chance to knock. Edward stands there in a t-shirt and flannel pants, his hair slightly damp from a shower. He bites his lip to hide a smile, then quickly moves aside and ushers me in from the cold.

He shuts the door behind me. "It's freezing out," he comments. I can see goose bumps on his arms. I have an urge to reach out and smooth them away, but I refrain.

"Yeah," I agree, but I don't really feel like talking about the weather. I face Edward in his small foyer and for a moment we hold each other's gaze. His eyes flicker to my lips, and then he looks away and runs a hand through his wet hair.

The moment's broken. I sigh and shrug out of my jacket.

"Thank you for coming over," he says awkwardly. It sounds formal and I hate it.

"I wanted to come over." He takes my jacket and I lead us into his living room. He lays the coat across a chair.

"My drug test came back," I tell him.

"Oh. Well, that's good, right?"

"Yeah, it's good."

"No news?"

"No."

We stand near the couch and face each other. I feel awkward, unsure how to begin, and the silence is insufferable.

"I'm sorry," he finally says.

I'm relieved, even though he said as much earlier. "Me too."

"I shouldn't have gone out the other night. I never would have if I knew it was going to cause such a mess."

"It's okay," I assure him. "It's not a crime to go out."

"I didn't know Tori was going to be there," he promises. "I didn't plan on seeing her. And I _definitely _didn't plan on her giving me a ride to your place…"

Every time I hear this girl's nickname, I puke in my mouth a little. But I had asked Emmett and apparently it's what she always goes by. It probably wouldn't be so strange and sickeningly cute if I didn't refer to her so formally inside my head.

"It bothered me a little," I admit. "But I'm still glad you came over."

"I'm sorry, Bella. The last thing I wanted to do is make you uncomfortable… I really fucked up." He rubs his eyes with his fingers wearily. I sit down on the couch, hugging myself with my arms, and follows my lead and sits beside me. He's so close that our knees touch.

"I shouldn't have gone off on you," I say. "Or accused Dr. Ellis… because you're right, I don't have proof. I was just mad at everything. The first time I talked to her, she kind of implied that she still has feelings for you and it… I dunno, it makes me uncomfortable sometimes."

Edward looks surprised. "Are you sure? She never says anything…"

"She thinks you're not interested. Of course she's not going to say anything."

"Even if she does, it doesn't matter. I _love _you, Bella." He puts a hand on my cheek, gently turning my face so that I'm looking right at him. "Please believe that. She could never compare to you, okay? No one could."

I lower my eyes and nod. He's right, of course; if he wanted to be with Dr. Ellis, he could be with her. There's nothing stopping him. In fact, several things are in his favor.

Maybe I'm simply being too insecure.

"I love you," he says again softly. My eyes rise up to meet his.

"I love you too."

His hand moves from my face to my arm, then he gently tugs on my sleeve, urging me towards him. "Come here."

I scoot a little closer – we're already nearly touching – and his fingers slide into my hair, cupping the back of my head. His touches are soft and gentle and his kiss is tender, reminding me of every reason I fell in love with him. I slide my hands under his shirt, raking his warm skin with my nails, and he tilts his head and kisses me with more passion as my touches spur him on. I yank at his shirt, tugging and pulling until he helps rip it from his body, and then rid myself of my own before standing in front of him. He kisses the skin of my belly as he pushes my pants down my legs, and I steady myself by grasping his shoulders while he helps me out of the rest of my clothing.

His lips press against mine forcefully as I straddle his lap. He lifts his hips so that I can pull his pants down, releasing his cock. It feels like I've suffered without him forever. As I sink down on top of him – as his hips shift to meet mine, and our bodies move together – it feels like the end of an era. Like everything is as it should be.

I could survive without Edward. It would be hard, but I realize I'd be able to do it.

The important thing is that I don't want to.

* * *

A/N: **DVT** - Deep vein thrombosis. Basically, a blood clot, usually in the leg or arm. In Mr. Lowery's case, the clot broke free and traveled to his lungs, resulting in a pulmonary embolism.

**Central line** - basically a big IV that's normally put in by a doctor or nurse practitioner.

**Lidocaine** - a medication Edward used to numb the patient's skin

**Flush** - a syringe full of saline, which is used to 'flush' an IV line

-x-x-

Thanks to passionmama for prereading and ms-ambrosia for betaing! I'd be a mess without them.

I don't know when the next chapter will be. To be honest, getting this one out was a struggle, but I didn't want to leave it in an angsty place. But I'm swamped with RL stuff and need to focus on school for a bit before I flunk out lol. I promise to get it out as soon as I can, though, and I apologize in advance. Also, for anyone who's interested, I only anticipate about 3-4 more chapters or so. I'll probably write more EPOV outtakes once it's all over (for those who have been requesting).

I'm **mybluesky1** on twitter for teasers.

See ya next time! xoxo


	24. Chapter Twenty Three

A/N: Sooo...yeah, I know it's been forever. I really hate leaving the story for so long, but the truth is, I'm having to write a bit here and a bit there whenever I get time. I've been playing the lottery and shit, but so far it's a no go.

I _do _plan on finishing this story, but I can't promise the next chapter will be out any quicker than this one. If you wanna flounce, I understand. If you wanna wait til it's complete to read the rest, I totally get that too. But thanks times a million to everyone who has been supportive while I take the time to finish this.

This wasn't beta'd, so hopefully the grammar is tolerable. Hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

-x-x-x-x-

**Chapter 23 - The Greatest Thing**

"Guess what I've got," Alice sing-songs to me as she makes her way over. I stop sifting through my lunch – stale cafeteria fries and a soggy hotdog, both smothered in an ungodly amount of ketchup to cover their taste – long enough to look up at her.

"What is it?"

"I got the code to the OR locker room."

"Alice!" I admonish. "I'm not snooping through the locker room. There are probably cameras. You're not freakin' _Magnum, P.I._ here."

"No, I'm much cuter. I can get information _Magnum_ would never dream of."

"Please don't tell me you flirted with Dr. Black…"

"So? It worked, didn't it?"

"God, Alice," I groan. "What would Jasper think of this?" Alice has gone into investigator mode ever since finding out about the missing drugs. She says the hospital isn't doing enough, and obviously there must be some raging drug user on the loose, but her ideas were previously just that - ideas. But now...

"This isn't about Jasper. It's about helping you. Come on, Emmett said he'd cover for us if we go real quick. We can see if anyone's there."

"It's lunch time. Of course someone'll be there."

"It depends on if there's any surgeries right now. Come _on_!"

I argue some more, but Alice is persistent. Against my better judgment, I let her lead me down the hallway to the elevators, but she bypasses them with the simple explanation that she hasn't worked out in forever and her butt's jiggling like a slab of Jello in an earthquake. She wants to take the stairs instead.

"We'll just poke our heads in," Alice explains as we descend. "If there's anyone there, we'll just say we're lost and turn around."

We're nearly at the bottom of the first flight of stairs when my foot catches on—what? Air? Dust?—I have no idea, but never mind, I lose my footing and pitch forward face-first into the solid wall of hard cement directly in front of me. Apparently my reflexes are crap, because I barely have time to comprehend that I'm falling before my face strikes the wall, glancing off of it at a slight angle. I don't even reach out to catch myself, I just fall into it like a sack of potatoes, luckily returning to my senses fast enough to stick my arms out before doing a second face-plant into the dirty linoleum floor below.

I stay there on my hands and knees, chest heaving, while Alice drops beside me and immediately thrusts two fingers in front of my face. "Oh my God. Are you okay? How many fingers am I holding up?"

I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut. The left side of my face throbs, but mostly I'm just stunned from the impact. I ease into a sitting position and gingerly touch my cheek, but all feels normal aside from a slight, fiery burn.

"We need to go to the ER," I hear Alice say, and I shake my head again.

"I'll be fine."

"_Fine_? That wall just kicked your ass. There's no way I'm gonna let you go home and die in your sleep tonight."

I try to argue, but Alice is yanking me to my feet with a hand under my armpit. "Do I need to get you a wheelchair?" she asks, exasperated at my resistance.

"We're in the stairwell, Alice," I try to reason. "Thanks to your jiggly ass and all."

"Well if _I_ would have fallen, I would've simply turned at the last moment and hit the wall with my ass like a landing pad. Nothing would've been hurt, except maybe the wall."

I smile despite myself.

-x-x-

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

I smack Alice's hand away, nearly jabbing one of her digits in the process. "If you ask me that again, I'm gonna choke you."

She sits back and taps her chin with her finger thoughtfully. "Head injuries make you violent," she observes, as if speculating some new scientific development.

"_You _make me violent."

"And cranky…"

Despite my protests, Alice dragged me to the ER for a CT scan. The left side of my face burns, but otherwise I feel okay, though Alice says you can never be too sure. Silent-but-deadly brain bleeds and all that. I'm in a large room on a hard stretcher with no pillow – they brought Alice a blanket wrapped in a pillow-case when she asked for one – and there's a guy behind the curtain next to me who's here for a GI bleed that's stinking up the place. Alice waves a hand in front of her face and, leaning close to me, mutters, "I sure hope that guy isn't admitted to _our_ floor."

The ER staff is taking forever to do anything, and with good reason, I suppose, because there's nothing wrong with me. Alice disagrees.

"Goddamn," she eventually huffs in exasperation, nearly twenty minutes later. "They're gonna let you die of a brain hemorrhage before they finally figure out what the hell they're doing." Alice is like one of those annoying family members I always dread dealing with at work.

"Didn't they tell you to go back to work?" I hedge, trying to get her out of my hair. I'm getting a splitting headache that has nothing to do with my head injury.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm about to go. Are you sure you're going to be okay?"

"I'll live," I assure her, forcing a smile in reassurance.

"You're lucky. There are lots of days I've considered getting a head injury to get out of work." She looks at me longingly.

That should be disturbing, but hell, I've thought the same thing once or twice on a bad day.

It's peaceful with Alice gone. Well, not really; the ER is chaotic, activity whirling all around me. I watch with some interest as they wheel an unconscious man by, his face an unnatural shade of lavender. Five staff members hover around him, trotting to keep up with the stretcher, and they bark orders at each other while steering him into his own room so that life support can begin. The curtain is snatched closed and I rest my head on the makeshift pillow, attempting to tune out the noise.

Someone eventually comes to get me for my CT scan. She remarks on my uniform and I suffer through another recount of my literal trip down the stairs. "I'm clumsy, too," she says, as if finding solace in discovering another of her kind. "I'm the only person I know who can trip while walking across a flat surface."

My face is throbbing, but I ignore it, lying perfectly still during my scan. The same girl takes me back to the ER, parks the stretcher, and tells me the doctor will be with me shortly. The putrid smell in the room is even worse now, and the patient's wife is complaining to him that they should have put him in a private room. She's not the only one who thinks so.

Surprisingly, the doctor doesn't take long.

"The scan is negative," he announces cheerfully. He's short and round with an awkward little goatee. I don't recognize him from my brief shifts in the ER. "You'll probably just have a little bruise, but that's it. I'd just recommend resting today, then you'll be good as new. I'll have the nurse write up your papers." He shakes my hand, wishes me luck, and he's gone as quickly as he came.

The doctor may have been productive, but the nurse takes forever. I lie back on the stretcher, my arm draped across my face to block the glare of the overhead lights. I've gotten used to the smell by now.

I'm not really dozing, but I'm so zoned out that I don't pay much attention to anything going on around me. That is, until a deep voice near my ear startles me. "Fancy meeting you here, Mrs. Swan."

I quickly move my arm, blinking in the harsh light. Edward is standing over me, one corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. He's wearing his usual scrubs and lab coat. And glasses, again, because apparently the contacts have been hurting his eyes. I love it when he wears his glasses – it's like the final accessory in my geek-doctor fantasy, and he looks absolutely adorable in them.

I reach out for him, smiling, and he clasps my hand firmly in his. "What are you doing here?" I ask. "Aren't you working?"

"I should ask _you _that question," he says. "But Alice texted me."

"Oh." I can feel the color rising in my face as I imagine her regaling him with tales of me sailing face-first down the stairwell. "She told you what happened, then?"

"She not only told me what happened, she also sent me this." He pulls out his cell phone and scrolls through it a moment. Then he holds it out to me, suppressing a smile.

I don't understand what I'm seeing at first. Everything is white except a distinct, beige smudge in the center of the picture. Then, slowly, I begin to see the outline of large bricks, and…_oh my God!_

"Oh my God!" I exclaim. "Is that my _makeup_?"

Edward laughs loudly at my reaction. He doesn't move quickly enough to prevent me smacking him in the stomach, though he's undeterred by the attack.

"It's not funny," I say with a scowl. Do I really wear that much makeup? I haven't looked in a mirror since the fall, and now I'm almost scared to.

"It's either your makeup or the first five layers of skin," he says, gently touching my burning cheek with his thumb.

"I can't believe Alice sent that to you. No, I can't believe she went back and took a picture of it! She must have a death wish," I grumble.

The nurse enters with the papers then, her eyes immediately falling on Edward. Her expression passes from surprise to confusion and then forced nonchalance as she regards our close proximity. Edward stops touching me, but otherwise doesn't step away.

"Hey, Dr. Cullen," she says easily. She's carrying a medicine cup with two pink pills and a cup of water. "Done with your shift?" Her tone is conversational.

"Almost," he replies with a polite smile.

She turns to me. "Do you need anything for pain before you go?" she asks. "Dr. Hollands said we could give you some Darvocet, but Tylenol should help once you get home."

I eye the pills with some alarm, then quickly shake my head. "Um, no. I'll be fine." I don't want narcotics anywhere near me. If I were to be drug tested again, how hard would it be to prove that I received a single dose of Darvocet in the ER? They're hardly stronger than Tylenol, anyway, and my face is only hurting a little.

"Okay," she says, obviously not caring either way. She goes over my instructions quickly – they're simple, stating that I should take Tylenol for pain and return to the ER if any unusual symptoms, such as a severe headache, occurs – and instructs me to sign the bottom of the paper.

Edward waits silently until she leaves, then says, "I should be off in about twenty minutes. Do you want me to drive you home?"

"I'm okay to go back to work," I protest. I feel obligated to suggest this, although truthfully, I want nothing more in the world than to take him up on his offer.

"Dr. Hollands told you to rest today," he informs, his tone leaving no room for argument. And how does he know that?

"Were you eavesdropping on me behind the curtain?" I ask, eyeing him suspiciously. "That's a breech a patient confidentiality, you know," I chastise.

"I know everything," he answers smugly. "And don't forget it. Besides, they've already covered you upstairs. You returning to work would just complicate things."

"Well we definitely don't want to complicate things," I reply. What can I say? He makes a convincing argument. I call Kate, confirming this, and take Edward up on his offer to watch TV in the on-call room while I wait. He accompanies me upstairs, then tells me he'll pick up my bag and purse from Alice when he's done. Behind the closed door of the on-call room, he kisses me sweetly, his lips grazing the non-tender skin of my forehead before he sighs and turns to leave. He seems resigned, as if, at times, parting is almost painful.

I know exactly how he feels.

-x-x-

"Bella, I can't…mmm…you have to stop."

"You really want me to stop?" I cock an eyebrow in question.

"No, but you're distracting me."

Resigned, I withdraw my hand and settle back into the passenger's seat of Edward's car. He glances at me once, then makes a pained noise before reaching over and grasping my hand with his own. His other hand remains planted on the steering wheel.

He brings my knuckles to his lips for a kiss. "We'll be at your place in less than five minutes," he promises, although I know it's at least another ten-minute drive if the speed limit is obeyed. A glance at the speedometer, however, confirms my suspicions.

We seem to have become more enamored with each other since our fight. Whether it's the thought of being without the man or the relief of being together again, I simply can't get enough of him. He seems to be the same, meeting my passion tirelessly, honoring my body with tender touches and caresses whenever he's near.

We're going to my apartment for more clothes, then we'll retire at his place and, hopefully, do nothing but each other for the rest of the day.

We pull into the parking lot six minutes later. I unlock the door, admitting us inside, and barely have time to shut it again before Edward's mouth meets mine in a violent assault. His kiss is hard and bruising and I pull him closer with a hand in his hair, demanding more. My hand-me-down kitchen table is closest; magazines and clutter are pushed aside, my scrub pants are snatched down, and Edward is inside me in mere moments, our hips meeting forcefully again and again as he claims my body as his own.

Afterwards, Edward gently helps me slide from the kitchen table, even though I could manage without him. Soft touches linger, and I kiss him twice before finally retreating to my bedroom for a change of clothes.

He stands in the doorway and watches me a moment. His hair is wild, his lips ruddy and his cheeks flushed, and I think, absently, that he's never looked more gorgeous.

"Do you want to stop and get a new cell phone on the way home?" he asks. He says "home" like I'm not standing in mine. Like my apartment is irrelevant; like the only place I belong is with him, wherever we decide to rest.

"I thought you said I needed to rest," I tease. "Doctor's orders." I open my underwear drawer and bypass my large, cock-shaped pink vibrator with a hasty look in Edward's direction. I feel my cheeks flush, but while Edward is watching me, he gives no indication that he noticed my reaction.

"I just wanted an excuse to get you for myself the rest of the day," he replies evenly.

"I see. Using your power for the greater good, then."

"Using _Dr. Hollands'_ power. It was his order, not mine."

"You doctors all band together anyway," I say, waving a hand dismissively. "It was probably your idea."

"Well I won't say I didn't think about it. But with you running around smashing your face into walls, I'd say you managed pretty well on your own."

I have my back to Edward while I finish undressing. Standing in nothing but my bra and underwear, I rifle through my dresser drawers in search of a decent shirt. Edward's hands are suddenly on the back of my legs, caressing slowly upwards, his touch scorching in the chill of the room.

I stand up slowly and he takes a step closer, pressing our bodies together, my back against his chest, my bare skin against the soft cotton of his scrubs. He pushes my hair off my shoulder and kisses the exposed skin, moving his lips slowly to the tender spot beneath my ear. I shiver, my entire body erupting in gooseflesh.

"Cold?" His breath is hot against my neck. I reach behind me blindly, grasping for his hair, then twist my neck and pull him to me until our lips meet for a blissful, awkward kiss. His hands slide up my body until he's fondling my breasts through my bra, until finally, I break from his grasp and push him away.

"You're distracting me," I chastise, the same as he did to me earlier. "We'll never leave if you keep that up."

It takes surprisingly little persuasion to get him to leave the room. Sated from our kitchen table rendezvous – and the knowledge that we'll be spending the whole night together – he retreats to the living room to watch TV while he waits. I want to take a shower, but I want to take it with Edward and he doesn't have any clean clothes to put on. All the more reason to hurry, I reason, so that we can return to his house and make it happen.

After I get a bag packed, we go to the cellphone store for a new phone. Since I have insurance, I only have to pay a deductible, but the clerk tells me they'll have to send in my old phone and have a new phone mailed in. Edward isn't pleased to hear this.

"You'll have to go a whole week without a cellphone?" he asks, somewhat irritably. "Don't you have an old one you can use?"

I'm admittedly a little put-out, myself. This being the first phone I've ever demolished in an exhausted rage, I figured they had spare phones in the back somewhere.

"It'll be fine," I assure him. "I can go without a cell phone for a week."

"We could buy a new one," he suggests.

"I can't afford a new one. I'm not eligible for an upgrade."

"I'll buy it for you."

"What? No." I dismiss this suggestion with a wave of my hand. "That's just a waste of money. I have insurance for a reason."

"But who's gonna bother me with random texts at work now?" he whines, his words teasing, and I pat his head with a grin, already formulating plans in my mind. A dirty text from Emmett's phone number would be a nice surprise, even if he realized its true sender a moment afterwards.

"I think you'll manage," I say vaguely, and with a subtle reminder of what I plan to do to him once we get home, he follows me from the store.

-x-x-

"Can I get a witness?" Angela pokes her head out the door of the med room, which sits just outside of the nurses station. Emmett, who's walking in the opposite direction down the hall – with clearly no intention of being said witness – holds up a fist and immaturely says, "Amen!"

I roll my eyes - who hasn't heard _that_ one? - and stand to assist Angela. She holds the door open for me with a small, timid smile.

"Thank you," she says as I punch my code into the Pyxis and press my finger to the scanner. I wait patiently until the drawer opens, then watch her closely while she counts the syringes and pulls out what she needs. When she turns around and finds me leering over her, she jumps, clutching her hand to her chest in surprise.

"You scared me!" she says, then laughs somewhat shakily. I apologize as she moves around me, reaching for an empty syringe, then stop her before she leaves the room.

"Aren't you going to waste that?" I ask her, gesturing to the vial in her hand. She looks confused for a moment – with good reason, I think, because none of us usually demand that we waste everything here in the med room. Normally, she would go to the patient's room, draw out the amount of medication she needed into the syringe, and dispose of the vial in the sharps container. Or at least that's what I think she'd do. A certain amount of trust used to exist among us, but unfortunately, that's now in the past. At least for me.

"Right, right," she says, hastily recovering. There's a sink in the corner. I watch her draw up the Morphine and squirt half down the drain. She glances at me uncertainly, so I assure her I'm satisfied with a forced smile. She grabs the empty vial - for charting purposes - and quickly leaves the room.

Later in the day, Aro gets the same treatment, although he's not nearly as complacent beneath my scrutiny. He takes one look at my suspicious, shrewd eyes and unleashes his inner Naomi Campbell with a fury.

Hand on his hip, he wags his unoccupied finger at me, clucking his head back and forth like a belligerent rooster. "You think _I _took the drugs? Well let me tell you, honey, I've been a nurse longer than you've been alive and I've _never_ been so disrespected by one of you little girls before. And I do believe it's _your _name the drugs are missing under, hmm?"

I suddenly understand why Emmett can't stand this guy.

"I never _said_ you took the drugs," I counter with just as much venom, instantly affronted at the accusation. "All I said was that I want to see you waste the stinkin' medicine."

Ignoring me, he says, "So… what? Couldn't get your cute little doctor to write you a prescription? Is that it?"

If it were any other man, I'd probably punch him in the junk. As it is, Aro's hardly taller than I am and _definitely_ girlier than I am. He'd probably scream like a princess, accuse me of assault, and get me in even more trouble.

"Are you going to waste the medicine or do I need to go get Kate?" I demand irritably.

"Oh, you better believe I'm gonna waste it," he assures, as if he wouldn't dream of doing otherwise. I roll my eyes at his absurdity as he flounces over to the counter and begins his exaggerated ministrations. After squirting it down the sink, he has the audacity to turn on the tap and wash it down with water, as if preventing a supposed crackhead such as myself from scraping the medication off the side of the moldy drain.

He doesn't say anything as he leaves the room, but the hostility left behind is stifling. I hear Emmett say something derogatory in the hallway, and suddenly he and Aro are bickering, their muffled voices audible through the thin door.

I shake my head and sigh, then pick up my notebook and resume my work.

-x-x-

_I can't wait to get home, strip you down, and feel your huge cock inside of me…_

Edward's reply text comes only a few moments later.

_I think we need to talk, Emmett._

_There'll be time for talk later…_

Emmett's phone vibrates silently in my hand, Edward's name appearing on the screen. I quickly slip into the break room and answer it with a satisfied smirk, deepening my voice and saying "Yo!" in the best impersonation of Emmett I can muster.

"You're not funny, Bella," Edward says immediately.

"Well I think I'm hilarious," I argue. "Why? Disappointed?"

"No, definitely not disappointed," he amends. "What are you doing with Emmett's phone?"

"Sending you dirty text messages."

"I see that," he says dryly. "It was definitely…surprising." I do an internal fist-pump, gloating at my ability to catch him off guard, fully aware that I secretly harbor the mind of a twelve-year-old boy.

"Are you guys slow today?" he asks.

"Yeah, it hasn't been too bad. Why?" I immediately wonder if he has time to stop by and become excited at the thought.

"Jared was extubated this morning. He's awake, if you want to go see him."

"Really?" I ask happily. I've made Edward give me updates on Mr. Lowery's status every day, and while it's been markedly positive, this is the greatest sign of improvement so far. "Yeah, thanks. I'll do that."

"Good. I've got to go, I'll see you tonight."

"Alright."

"And Bella?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

I smile. "I love you, too."

-x-x-

Even though I know he's awake, it's still a surprise to find Mr. Lowery lying calmly back in bed, flipping through the channels on the TV while holding a cup of ice chips. The blinds are closed, bathing the room in darkness, but the light from the hallway and TV casts a sufficient, albeit flickering glow across his relaxed features.

I'm so excited to see him awake and well that I make no preamble about entering his room. He doesn't startle at the intrusion, by now accustomed to people constantly coming and going from his room, but his face lights up in a pleasant smile as recognition dawns.

"Bella!" he cries, just as I say, "Mr. Lowery!" His voice is scratchy, but otherwise strong and reassuring.

"You working down here today?" he questions in confusion.

"No, I came to see you." I sit in the chair by his bed while he turns down the volume to the TV. "Edward said you were awake. How do you feel?"

"My throat hurts like a son of a bitch, but I'll live." He gestures with the cup of ice to indicate his chilly relief.

"Well you had me worried for a while," I admit. Mr. Lowery's oxygen tubing, while correctly positioned at his nose, is loose and hanging off one ear. "Your oxygen is coming off," I tell him, and reach to fix it.

"You're not the only one who was worried," he confesses, turning his head so I can loop the tubing behind his ear. "You should see the cards the grandkids wrote me!" He cringes a little at the thought, and I smile sympathetically.

"That bad, huh?"

He seems to think a moment, then waves a hand as though brushing off this notion. "It makes me feel good, knowing how missed I'd be," he says. "That's probably a selfish thing to say, but it is what it is."

"I don't think it's selfish," I assure him. "I think it'd make anyone feel good, especially if they came close to dying."

He shrugs, and then, looking towards the door, says, "So where's Edward?"

I unnecessarily follow his gaze, then turn back to him. "Working."

"He works too much; both of you do. He was here this morning when I woke up, you know. Huge green eyes were right in my face, the first thing I saw. It about scared the hell out of me."

I snort in laughter. "Sounds horrifying," I joke.

"Well not for _you_," he amends. "I suppose you get that every morning."

"He doesn't hover over me while I'm sleeping, if that's what you mean."

Mr. Lowery laughs, which turns into a mild coughing fit. He sits up a little, his entire face turning the shade of a bright raspberry, and the oxygen saturation monitor goes haywire, beeping as his oxygen level drops into the upper eighties. I see his nurse leaning up at the desk, peering into his room, but seeing it's just another coughing spell, she relaxes and sits back down.

The level rises as soon as the coughing subsides, and the beeping stops. The crimson in his face, however, takes a moment longer to fade.

"Agg!" he declares, making a deep, guttural noise. He tries to clear his throat.

"Better?" I venture to ask, once he's settled down again.

"No." His voice is bitter; he's obviously tired of being sick.

"Did Edward say when you'd be transferred back to the floor?"

"Tomorrow, probably."

"Oh, good. That means I'll have someone to bug all day."

"Tomorrow's a dialysis day," he informs me. "So not _all _day." But the corners of his lips curve in a tiny smile, and I can't help but think he's looking forward to being transferred. Back to familiarity, where better health and a discharge seem within grasp.

We talk a bit more, about nothing in particular. He tells me how after he woke up, someone, probably his nephew, left the TV on MTV – God forbid – and he couldn't find the remote, nor find the strength to call out for the nurse. He had to endure almost a full episode of what sounds suspiciously like _Jersey Shore_, based on his lewd description,before someone finally took mercy and changed the channel.

His dinner arrives, and I figure it's probably time for me to return to work. I stand and pat his shoulder in farewell, and he places his hand on mine.

"Edward's off tomorrow?" he asks. I'm not sure how he got this information, but I nod in confirmation. "I won't blame you if you suddenly catch fever and need to call out, then," he says. "Life is too short, you know. This place isn't that important, in the grand scheme of things." He winks inconspicuously, but carries the air of a man who knows, too well, how short life really is.

-x-x-

My new cell phone comes in the next day, so after work, I stop by the store to pick it up. My "new" phone is refurbished, which means it's used and has scratches and looks little better than my old phone, except that it's all in one piece. It comes to life easily and, after a moments' hesitation, a dozen missed calls and messages pop up on the screen.

Three missed calls are from my dad – two sent yesterday and one this morning. One is from Alec, a mere minute after I hung up on him and destroyed my phone. Apparently, he had some sense along with his hangover, because he hasn't tried to contact me again. A text from Irina the afternoon my phone was destroyed. One from Emmett, sent yesterday, asking if all phones go to heaven.

My dad sounds a bit put-out in his third voicemail message. "I know I'm getting old," he says stoically, "but I thought I was pretty cool for an old guy. I feel like I hear less from you now than I did when you lived in Florida."

I grimace. This is true; the last I saw him was when he delivered the kitchen table – the same table Edward and I had sex on, though God bless his soul and pray he never finds that out – and the last I talked to him was almost two weeks ago. I haven't avoided him on purpose, of course, but with my fight and makeup with Edward and everything that's gone on at work, time just slipped away from me.

Sitting in my car, I call him back immediately and make plans to meet him soon. He came to Seattle last, so it's only fair that I make the three-hour journey to Forks this time. And it's high time I introduce him to Edward, I think. It'll be awkward, but no worse than meeting Carlisle. Edward will owe me forever for that disaster.

Finally, I read the last text, the one Edward sent me just hours before our fight. The one I never got a chance to read, the one concluding our dirty, flirtatious, written conversation.

_Sometimes_, it reads, _I think the greatest thing I ever did in life was to fall in love with you._

* * *

References:

**GI Bleed** - gastrointestinal bleed, or a "stomach" bleed from somewhere in the gastrointestinal tract. Some of them stink. A lot.

**Darvocet** - a narcotic pain pill. It was recently taken off the market, although this story takes place before then.

**Extubated** - the opposite of intubated. In this case, Mr. Lowery's breathing tube was removed.

-x-x-

Thanks to passionmama for prereading and everyone for all their support and reviews!

I haven't been on twitter much lately, but I still try to post teasers there. I'm **mybluesky1** if you want to follow.

Until next time! xoxo


	25. Chapter Twenty Four

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

-x-x-x-x-

**Chapter 24 - The Seductress Cometh**

"Your dad has a _shotgun_?" Edward asks in alarm. We're on our way to Forks, almost fifty miles outside of Seattle, with nothing but long stretches of highway all around us. We'd originally entertained ourselves by guessing who sung each song that came on the radio; Edward won that game, but only because it was an oldies station and he has a freakishly good memory.

Now he wants me to prepare him by telling him things about my father.

"He has four, actually, but he keeps them locked in a cabinet," I calmly explain. "If he decides to shoot you with one, you'll have at least a three-minute head start while he finds the key. Now his police gun, on the other hand…"

"Police gun?"

"I told you he's a cop."

"He's off duty," Edward grumbles, clearly distressed, as his eyes rest on the pavement in front of us. It's a cool, overcast day, but dry – it hasn't rained in almost a week, and the clouds above us are white and nonthreatening.

"Chief Swan is never off duty, Edward," I remind him.

"You did tell him about me, right? He knows I'm coming?"

"Nah, I figured we'd surprise him."

"Are you _serious_?" He looks downright panicked, and I laugh openly, not even bothering to hide my amusement. Edward scowls and tries to pinch my side, and in his distraction he pulls the steering wheel and swerves the car towards the center of the road. Luckily, there's no one around us.

That doesn't stop me from chastising him like my firstborn. "What the hell, _Bo Duke? _Keep your eyes on the road! Killing me won't make my dad any less likely to shoot you."

"He'd have to find me first."

"You clearly underestimate him." I settle down in my seat, trying to soothe my frazzled nerves. "Will you pull over at the next exit? I have to pee now, thanks to you."

"We only have about a hundred more miles. I think you can hold it."

"So help me God, Edward, you better pull over."

"Or what?" he challenges.

"I'll pee in your car, that's what."

"That'd be just like you to pee on my leather seats, Bella."

"Don't try me, Edward."

Fortunately for his leather seats, he pulls over. I use the bathroom, stock up on Combos and bottled water, and we pile back into the car, ready to complete the remaining eighty-five miles to Forks. Our conversation continues much the same way, with occasional bantering and tidbits here and there about my father. My dad has started seeing a woman named Sue, a single mom who used to be friends with my mother. She and my mother haven't spoken in years, but it's strange nonetheless.

Sue is supposed to be coming to dinner tonight. Well, technically she's _cooking _the dinner. At my dad's house.

Dad seemed so pleased at being able to give us a home cooked meal our first night there that I can't help but feel somewhat thankful for her. Lord knows, a man can only survive so long on dry cereal and breakfast pastries.

As we enter Forks, I begin pointing out various landmarks from my past. "Down there is where I went to elementary school," I say, and, "If you go down that road, there's a campground where me and my dad went camping."

"Your mom didn't go?" Edward asks.

"Nah, she hated that kind of stuff. Occasionally one of my dad's friends would come, and we took Sue's son sometimes."

"How old are her kids?"

"Seth was only two years younger than me. Leah was real young – she was only three years old or so when I moved to Florida. I saw her once a couple years ago, but Seth lives in California now. I haven't seen him in ages."

Edward's countenance doesn't change as we near my dad's house. I give straightforward directions, telling him to turn here and there, and soon we're pulling into the driveway. My dad's house is two-story and white-paneled, with a build-up of filth in the edge of each pane from the constant rain. The rails to the porch were painted white long ago, but now the paint is chipped, the wood weathered.

It's not an ugly house, but it's old and in need of updating. My dad is reliable with his job, never calling out or missing a day of work, but I'm not sure he's ever had the motivation to roll up his sleeves and better his home.

I open the door and step out. It's drizzling here, unlike in Seattle, and the rain is thick and misty. Edward runs a hand through his hair and sighs, the only indication that he's nervous.

"I'll get the bags," he says, following my lead, and I see him eye my dad's police cruiser warily. "Does he drive that thing all the time?"

"Not all the time." I can't help smiling. Dad normally leaves his cruiser at the station, driving his truck when he's off-duty. He probably brought the cruiser home purposefully, trying to scare Edward. And from the looks of things, it's working.

Edward mutters something under his breath that I can't hear. He grabs our bags from the backseat and an empty Combos wrapper flutters to the ground. He snatches the wrapper up, throws it back in the car, and slams the door shut.

The door to the house opens before we reach the porch. First the interior, slowly, and then the screen. It creaks on its hinges, groaning in protest, as my dad pushes it all the way open, holding the door for Edward, whose hands are full with the bags. Dad glances at him briefly and then smiles widely at me.

"Hey sweetie. Glad you two had a safe trip." I give him a quick, welcoming hug, then pull back and turn to Edward.

"Dad, this is Edward. Edward, Dad. Charlie."

Edward sets one bag on the porch and reaches out to shake Dad's hand. Their shake is firm, both attempting to impress the other. Dad is standing up straight, his full height of five foot ten – still a few inches shy of Edward – but his stance is solid and sure. Edward's doesn't waiver either.

"It's nice to meet you, Sir."

"Call me Charlie. You have a good trip?"

"It was great. Surprisingly dry, too, for the most part."

Charlie glances out into the yard at the misty rain. It's certainly not dry any longer. But when is it not raining in Forks? It's even worse than Seattle.

"Well let's get you kids settled. Sue should be coming over soon. She's bringing her daughter, too. You remember Leah, right Bella?"

"Yeah, of course."

Leah was barely over ten years old the last I saw her. Small and skinny, she wore 'NSYNC shirts and complained about being bored constantly. With a start, I realize she should be about sixteen by now.

Dad heads to the kitchen while I lead Edward up the stairs. There are pictures of me on the wall, ones Mom hung that Dad never took down. Me with a gap in my front teeth, me with a side-ponytail in the third grade when I wanted nothing more than to be like Claudia from _The Baby-sitters Club_. With horror, I realize Edward is eyeballing every picture he passes with amused interest.

"It's not funny," I hiss at him, even though he never laughed.

Edward grins. "Don't get so defensive, Madonna. You were cute."

"I did _not_ look like Madonna!" Although with the gap teeth, the resemblance _is_ a bit striking.

_Damn it!_

"If you say so," Edward relents, but he can barely suppress his smile.

I lead him to my room and he puts the bags on the floor. It's exactly the same every time I visit – faded yellow walls with an atrocious flowered border near the ceiling, a worn, purple bed-spread, a creaky old double-sized bed that belonged to my mother before she married. The dresser is carved with a pen in several places, phrases that are scratched out and rewritten and long forgotten.

There are no pictures in my room. The few I had were taken to Florida, and my visits here were so brief that I never felt the need to accessorize the place. It's plain, like an old-fashioned guest-bedroom with mutilated furniture.

Edward looks around with interest anyway, probably trying to discern exactly what I was like as a child. From our surroundings, I'd wager I come across as a pretty boring one.

"I took all my stuff to Florida when I was little," I say, grabbing Edward by the elbow. "Come on, let's go downstairs."

Edward hesitates. "Where am I going to sleep?"

"In here," I say, as if it should be obvious.

"In your room? Then where are you sleeping?"

"Well not on the floor," I answer with a small laugh. "I know the bed is small, but you're gonna have to suck in your gut for a night and make room." I reach forward and pat him on his very flat belly, teasing.

"In the same bed?" Edward looks mildly horrified. "What about your dad?"

"What about him?"

"He's not gonna want me sleeping with you."

"Sleeping with me, or _sleeping _with me?" I wag my eyebrows invitingly and Edward crosses his arms, frowning.

"Same difference."

"Believe it or not, my dad isn't _that_ old-fashioned."

"_All_ dads are that old-fashioned. Especially ones that own guns."

"Please. I'm twenty-six. And you think he doesn't let Sue spend the night?"

"Do _you _think he does?"

"_I _try not to think about it at all. But… yes, I think he does."

"Well it's different. It's his house, he can do whatever he wants. Did you even ask him if it's okay?"

I roll my eyes with a sigh, then make my way out of my room and back down the stairs, leaving Edward no choice but to follow. "You worry way too much."

Dad is sitting on the couch. When he sees us, he asks if we want a beer, then makes his way to the kitchen to retrieve the beverages. When he opens a bottle and hands it to me I cock an eyebrow at Edward as if to say, _See?_

_That doesn't prove anything, _Edward's returning scowl answers. _Remember? _My _dad tried to pour Scotch down my throat at dinner._

I huff and take a big swallow of my beer. _Whatever._

Edward seems tense at first, and for a moment I worry that they'll have nothing in common and nothing to talk about. But then my dad asks Edward if he likes to fish, and some unknown part of Edward – a part that used to fish with his uncle every weekend until he was thirteen – unleashes itself, and before I know it my dad is dragging him to the garage to gloat over his fishing equipment and they've agreed on taking a trip to the lake in the morning.

I change the channel from _Sports Center _to _Tosh.O _in order to pass the time. There's a video of a guy dirty-dancing in a speedo when they reenter the house.

"Bella! What the hell are you watching?" my dad bellows.

I nearly jump out of my skin, whirling to see my dad looking horrified while Edward stands beside him, a decidedly smug expression on his face.

"What? It's internet videos," I say defensively.

"I don't want to see what kind of videos these insane people put on the internet. And that's certainly not something Sue and Leah need to see."

I don't bother pointing out that they're not here. I pick up the remote and begin channel surfing, sipping my beer silently while Dad leads Edward to the kitchen to show him the steak they're cooking tonight. Edward follows with relaxed shoulders, and I imagine he's just thankful the gun case hasn't made an appearance.

-x-x-

Sue and Leah come over shortly after five o'clock. Introductions are made, and Sue hugs me heartily while exclaiming that I've barely changed at all. Leah stands around awkwardly at first; while I've known her all my life, the majority of the time we spent together was when Leah was three years old and too young to retain memories.

She really filled out as a teenager. No longer gangly, her chest is already bigger than mine and her hips a touch wider, giving her a curvaceous, womanly figure. Her hair is blond and wavy, falling to nearly the middle of her back, and her crystal blue eyes are like a clear, cloudless day over a shimmering sea.

These shimmering sea eyes are attached to Edward, watching his every mood as he helps set the table and makes small talk with Dad and Sue. When we're all seated, and her initial hesitation has vanished, she talks incessantly in a juvenile voice that betrays her youth.

"So you're a doctor?" she inquires, glancing longingly across the table at Edward.

"Yes," he answers politely, oblivious to the infatuation being thrown his way.

"So you've, like… done CPR and stuff?" She asks the question dreamily, as if imagining Edward doing CPR is straight out of her little teenaged fantasy, and Sue and Charlie exchange a look.

"A few times," he tells her. "Although Bella's probably done it more."

"You've never had to kiss an old guy, have you?"

"We don't do mouth-to-mouth anymore," I inform her, hoping to discourage her from the onslaught of lust she's currently tossing across the table. "We have masks at the hospital that do that for you."

Leah looks taken aback by this. "Masks? But what if someone falls out and dies at the mall? You won't have a mask there."

"You're supposed to just do chest compressions. Putting your mouth on a stranger is unsanitary."

Sue nods vigorously in agreement.

"What about me?" Leah exclaims, offended. "I'm not unsanitary. You'd just let me die instead of doing mouth-to-mouth?"

I very nearly launch into a speech about how CPR is normally more effective without rescue breathing anyway, but before I have a chance Edward smoothly says, "Of course not, Leah. We'd make an exception for you." He finishes this statement with one of the same crooked smiles that he used mercilessly while winning me over.

Leah positively beams at him.

Suddenly I have a feeling Edward knows _exactly_ what he's doing. I inconspicuously shift and kick him in the shin, causing him to jerk and shoot me a warning look.

"_What_?" he mouths at me.

Sue speaks up before I can answer. "Leah, since you're so interested, maybe being a doctor is something you'd like to think about."

Leah looks unperturbed by this question, and thinks it over carefully for half a heartbeat. "Don't doctors have to go to school for like… ten years or something?" She directs the question at Edward.

"Something like that," he vaguely replies.

She immediately shakes her head, crinkling her nose in distaste. "Nah, it'd be easier to just marry one."

Sue and Charlie's appalled eyes nearly bug straight out of their heads. Edward chokes on his drink, and I pat him on the back, covering my laughter around a huge mouthful of mashed potatoes.

Leah goes on eating as if we'd never been talking at all.

-x-x-

Sue and Leah stay for a while after dinner is cleaned up. When Leah hears that Edward is accompanying Dad on a fishing trip, she invites herself along, much to Charlie's chagrin.

"I've asked you a dozen times to go fishing with me and you always refuse," he berates her.

"You haven't asked me lately!"

"I gave up! And you act like the world's coming to an end every time I bring fish home."

"You get scales all over the sink! It's _gross_!"

It gives me a small sense of nostalgia, seeing them bicker. While I never had to put up with fish scales – Mom always made Dad clean the fish outside, by the hose – we used to argue incessantly over the bait. I'd help him dig up worms for hours as a child, but I would never, under any circumstances, handle the crickets Dad was so fond of using. Every time you speared them they'd puke on your finger, and the feeling of their spiky little legs jabbing at your flesh was just short of horrid.

Edward puts up with Leah's adoration with a tireless patience. But once they leave, and we're making the short trek up the stairs, I can tell he's glad to be alone.

We share the bathroom, brushing our teeth side by side, an easy, comfortable silence between us. But he hesitates outside the bedroom door, as though unsure whether to proceed.

"Are you sure this is okay?" he asks again, lingering cautiously.

I grab him by the hand and all but snatch him into the room. "If you keep asking me that, I'm gonna kick you out to sleep in your car."

He nods sheepishly and carefully shuts the door behind him. Dad has already retired to his own bedroom, far down the hall, and Edward and I decided to do the same only a few minutes afterwards. It's been a long day for both of us. I take off my pants and bra and crawl into bed in nothing but my shirt and underwear. I scoot to the far end to make room for Edward, and he undresses and slides in behind me in nothing but his boxers. His skin is hot against the chilly sheets, and he wraps his arms around me from behind, tucking me into his warmth.

He kisses my shoulder lightly, then goes still. His cock, which is partially hard, is pressed into my bottom. I push my hips back against his and feel his body tense behind me.

When I do it again, his grip is almost painful.

"Stop that," he chastises.

"Stop what?" I do it again. Edward pushes away from me, putting a few inches of space between us in the bed. His brows – what little I can see in the darkness – are pulled together in a tight frown.

"You know what."

"Oh, come on." I roll over towards him, much to his dismay; he sighs and makes a very determined effort to keep me from touching him, especially as my hand begins traveling south.

"Bella," he hisses. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Why would I be kidding you?"

"We're not having sex with your father down the hall."

"He's asleep. He'll never know."

"I don't care."

"We'll be quiet."

"You're never quiet."

"Am too!"

"Stop touching me! I said no!"

"Quit acting like such a woman!"

"Then stop trying to force me! No means no!"

"God, you're so dramatic!"

I fall onto my back with a huff, making my frustration apparent. Edward mimics my position, us lying shoulder to shoulder, while he runs a hand down his face. It drops heavily to his side.

My countenance just _oozes _displeasure, and I expect any moment he'll come to his senses and give in. He is a man, after all.

But then he sighs and rolls over, facing away from me. "Goodnight," he grumbles.

I scowl and shove him in the back, nearly knocking him off the tiny bed.

"Coward."

"It's _called_ self-preservation," he shoots over his shoulder.

"Don't try to fancy up the word, coward."

"Goodnight, Bella."

I sigh. So that's how he wants to be? Fine. I don't need him to get off. Hesitating only a heartbeat, I slip my hand into my panties and try to clear my mind, moving my fingers slowly but not inconspicuously. I _want _Edward to know, to see what he's missing.

It takes me a minute to get into the swing of things. I've never masturbated where someone could see me before and didn't realize how weird it would feel. But it's too late to back out now. I don't want to back out.

Should I make noises? Would that be too much?

I decide it'd probably be more natural and eventually release a small moan, just enough to get Edward's attention. He tenses beside me, but doesn't roll over.

"What are you doing, Bella?" he asks hesitantly.

"Hmm?" I continue moving my fingers and can finally feel a tiny bit of pressure building. "God, what I'd give to have you inside of me right now."

Edward cautiously looks over his shoulder and swears under his breath. "Goddamn, Bella. What are you trying to do to me?" He rolls over, eyes widened, but doesn't touch me. Instead, he crosses his arm behind his head and watches.

I allow him a few moments of uninterrupted show. As soon as his breathing begins to labor, I reach out my hand for his. Surprisingly, he doesn't object as I guide it towards me and place it beneath mine, right over my clit. This was almost _too _easy.

He sucks in his breath as I guide his fingers over my slick skin, parting my legs to allow greater access. His fingers began mimicking my movements and I release his hand to pull my panties down my legs, getting them out of the way. Edward props up on one elbow so he can reach me easily, and his fingers slide down, parting my skin, and eventually one slips inside of me.

He leans over and kisses my neck, then sucks and softly nips with his teeth. "You'll be the absolute death of me, Bella," he murmurs.

I moan in response, lifting my hips to meet his movements. "I need you so bad," I whimper.

I turn my face towards Edward's and he groans, pressing his mouth against mine and thrusting his tongue through parted lips. His tongue strokes mine languorously, deliciously, imitating the movements being performed to the lower half of my body. I tug on his shoulder, but he hardly needs an invitation before rolling on top of me and using his free hand to yank his boxers down. He doesn't pull them all the way off, just removes his right hand from my heat and replaces it with something long and thick.

He slips inside easily, stretching and filling me up, and we both groan together as we join. He pulls out until just the head remains before pushing back in again. I lock my legs around his waist, feeling every hot inch, and throw my head back to enjoy.

As soon as he increases the speed and force of his thrusts, the bed groans angrily, resisting the movement. The rhythmic creaks are loud enough to wake the dead.

Or my dad.

Edward freezes almost instantly, his body going rigid on top of mine. We both lay still, listening for movement down the hall, but there's nothing but silence.

"Damn it, Bella." Edward's whisper is frustrated.

"It's not _my _fault," I immediately argue.

"So says the seductress."

"Let's just get on the floor."

"Really?" He sounds doubtful, but watches with mild interest as I push him off me and crawl onto the carpet. I take off my shirt, freeing my breasts, and they seem to serve as the lure that has Edward following me off the bed.

I get on all fours and sigh as Edward pushes into me from behind. He's on one knee, the other leg propped up beside my hip, and his body slightly hovers mine. The position allows him to go so deep that I have to bite my hand to keep from crying out.

"Oh God, Bella," he whispers. His hands stroke my back tenderly at first, then my hips, until he's grabbing onto me with a grip so tight it almost hurts, using his hold as an anchor as he pulls out and thrusts back inside with increasing force.

The moan that follows is too much to muffle with my hand; Edward lets the first one slide, but after the second, he leans forward and clamps his hand over my mouth, still pumping into me with an even, unhurried rhythm.

"Shhh," he says quietly.

I clench my teeth together, dampening my cries. When I turn around to look at Edward, it's to see him biting his lip, his brows drawn down in concentration while the moonlight from the window bathes his body in a faint, pearly glow.

It's a beautiful sight.

His hand, now slack, still lingers at my mouth, as if ready and waiting for the next moan to slip. I kiss his fingers and say, "I love you so much."

His eyes focus on mine while his thumb rubs the skin by my lip. Then he pulls on my shoulders, urging my body upright, my back flush to his chest. My knees dig into the carpet and I have a fleeting regret of the carpet-burn that's likely to follow, but that thought's erased as soon as Edward twists my face around and kisses me with a ferocity that leaves me breathless.

"I love you," he says against my lips. "Only you. Always."

His fingers find my clit, his tongue reinvades my mouth, and I come almost instantly.

-x-x-

Dad wakes Edward up early for their fishing trip. The sun is just starting to rise, and I can barely make out Edward's tousled hair and bare shoulders as he struggles to pull on his pants in the dim light. There's a thump as he stubs his toe on the dresser, followed by a curse, and then he's kissing me on the forehead and whispering goodbye.

I spend over an hour in bed, not really sleeping, before kicking away the covers and stumbling downstairs for breakfast. There's frozen waffles and cereal, so I settle for the former, toasting them and covering them with syrup before settling down in front of the TV for some mindless entertainment. When I finish eating, I clean my dishes, drink some coffee, and head back upstairs for a shower.

There's a phone ringing as I enter the bedroom, and I recognize the ring as one of Edward's. His cell phone is resting on the nightstand, forgotten in the early hours of the morning. I walk over to it, telling myself I'll just see who it is. _Mom_ flashes on the screen, and the ringing stops before I can make a decision regarding whether or not to answer.

There're two missed calls, both from her. Concern floods me, partly because she knows Edward is in Forks with me and partly because it's so early. I dig my own phone out of my purse, look up her number on Edward's phone, and call her back.

"Hello," she says, answering quickly.

"Esme? It's Bella. Is everything okay?"

"Bella! I was hoping it might be you. It just occurred to me that I don't have your number."

"Yeah, I saw you called Edward's phone. He's out fishing with my dad."

"Oh good! He always loved fishing when he was younger. So are they getting along alright?" There's no urgency to her voice, no warning that anything's wrong.

"Yeah, my dad really seems to like him."

"That's good, that's good. Well look, Bella, I was just calling because Carlisle was admitted to the hospital this morning." Before I can make any sort of exclamation, she eases my worry by saying, "I don't think it's anything serious, but he was real faint and lightheaded this morning while getting ready for work. I made him go to the ER and his blood pressure was low and he's anemic. He's being admitted for a blood transfusion and a work-up. He's okay right now, though."

I breathe a sigh of relief. "Okay, good. I'm glad he's okay. I'll tell Edward as soon as he gets back."

"Thank you. I don't want to worry him while you guys are away, but I don't want him to come back and find out I didn't tell him what was going on."

"I understand. I'll be sure to let him know."

"Thanks. And I'll call you if anything changes."

"Okay."

Edward and Dad are gone for another hour and a half. I wonder if Edward is enjoying himself, being crammed in a tiny boat for so long with just my father for company. Because I really doubt Leah woke up early enough to go.

Their return home is a shock, however. Leah enters the house first, her clothes wet, her blond hair plastered to pale, damp skin. Her makeup has smeared around her eyes and she looks mad enough to commit murder. Edward follows next, equally wet, equally disgruntled, and Dad looks much too exhausted to have spent a relaxing day on the lake.

"_This _is why I don't go fishing with you," Leah says hotly. She stomps past me, heading towards the stairs, presumably for the bathroom or a towel.

"Right. Because I told you to jump into the water."

"_I didn't jump!"_

"I'm telling your mother what you did," Dad says angrily, to no reply. Just the bathroom door slamming upstairs.

Edward slowly peels off his wet jacket, looking even paler than Leah. "What the hell happened?" I exclaim, looking from him to Dad. There's no fish, but it could be out in the truck.

"Leah fell overboard," Dad angrily explains. "I told her not to lean over the side, but does she ever listen to me? The water was freezing! Then she screamed like a banshee and pulled Edward halfway into the water. If she hadn't been wearing a life jacket, so help me, she would have drowned."

She just _fell _into the water? I smirk, thinking her premature brain most likely wanted a personal demonstration of Edward's CPR technique. And looking at the guy all wet and flustered, I can't say I blame her.

Then I see he's getting a little blue around the lips and figure it's time to get him into a hot shower. Stat. Before _I'm_ doing CPR.

"Geez. Come on, Edward," I say, grabbing onto his hand. It's cold as ice. "You're freezing. You should probably take a shower and change."

"He can use my shower if Leah is in the bathroom," Dad offers, and I nod before leading my frozen man up the stairs.

Dad's bathroom is just a little larger than the one down the hall. I run the water for Edward while he peels off his wet clothes, and the bathroom begins to steam almost immediately. He's shivering, his pale skin erupting in gooseflesh as I usher him beneath the hot spray.

"God, this feels good," I hear him moan as I lean against the counter.

"Sounds like you had an exciting morning."

"If being simultaneously molested and dunked into a lake of ice is exciting, then yes, I guess I did."

"Sounds pretty exciting to me."

"I can't believe you let me go out alone with that girl. She was ten times worse than last night."

"Well, the fact that she woke up that early is pretty impressive. Apparently I didn't give her obsession with you enough credit."

"Yeah, thanks," he says dryly.

I shrug in acquiesce, then say, "I talked to your mom today."

"Oh yeah? About what?"

"She was trying to reach you. Your dad is anemic and had to be admitted to the hospital."

His head pokes out from around the shower curtain. A slight flush of color has returned to his cheeks. "Seriously? Is he alright?"

"She said he was fine. Going to have a blood transfusion and a work-up. She just wanted to let you know."

He seems to consider this, then nods slowly and disappears behind the curtain again. "He probably has a peptic ulcer," he says grimly. "He had one three years ago."

"Maybe," I concede. It wouldn't be that surprising, given how tightly wound the man is. Plus he's a drinker. "We can leave early if you want," I offer.

"I hate to do that. We just got here…"

"Dad'll understand. And we can always come back later."

"Yeah, I guess that's true."

I stay in the bathroom a little longer. Edward claims he smells like a lagoon, so I fetch him a fresh wash towel to clean up with. Then I walk down the hall to my bedroom for a dry set of clothes.

There's some unknown compulsion that causes me to check my phone while I'm there. I have a text message from Alice – a picture of the wall smudge where I smashed my face, except now there's dark lettering that reads _BELLA SWAN WAS HERE_ written above it in permanent marker in Emmett's loopy handwriting.

I'm going to kill them both.

Completely forgetting that Edward is still in my dad's bathroom, naked and abandoned, I dial Alice's number with every intention of bitching her out. Except I never get the chance.

"No, Bella, the picture isn't important right now," she immediately interrupts me, her tone alarmingly serious. "You will never guess what _just_ happened."

"What, Alice? Just tell me."

"I found out who stole the drugs."

* * *

**A/N: **I know, right? FINALLY.

Thanks so much to the usual passionmama and ms-ambrosia for sticking with this story, and to everyone who's left comments in reviews or on twitter! I love hearing what you think, and you all make this story a pleasure to write. Also special thanks to Twi Girls Next Door for rec'ing Doctor's Orders for their Must Read Monday! You can check them out at www(dot)twigirlsnextdoor(dot)com

Sorry again about the wait on this one. Hopefully the next chapter will be out quicker. The next chapter might also be the last one before the epi, unless it runs too long. I've got it all planned out, but if it's massive, I'll split it in two.

I'm **mybluesky1 **on twitter if you want to follow. See ya soon!


	26. Chapter Twenty Five

A/N: This isn't the last chapter... there will be one more and then the epi. See you below!

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

-x-x-x-x-

**Chapter 25 - Just Us**

It's rare that I'm genuinely surprised anymore. With everything that regularly happens at my job, and with all the recent surprises of my personal life, I've come to the conclusion that anything is possible. Expect the unexpected and all that.

And even though Alice is accusing Dr. Ellis, the one person I originally suspected all along, it's still a shock to hear, to have someone you know and trust allege this person with such robust confidence.

Maybe this is how Edward felt. Or maybe he felt more, or worse, since he actually knows the culprit.

"Wait… so she confessed?" I quickly ask Alice. I'm trying to wrap my head around exactly what happened. I want to know how she reached this conclusion.

"Well… no," she carefully replies.

"Then how do you know?"

"I saw her with the pills."

"What? You _saw _the pills? Why didn't you tell someone?"

"Because I couldn't prove it," she explains, somewhat defensively. "They were all in a prescription bottle without a label. But I know what I saw. She bent over and the bottle fell out of her pocket and rolled across the hallway. I tried to grab it for her, but she snatched it up so fast I thought she was going to tear my hand off."

"Yeah, that doesn't prove anything," I agree, mildly exasperated. It's weak evidence, as far as I'm concerned.

"Yes it does. I saw the pills. They were small and round and looked exactly like MS Contin."

"You can't know for sure."

"When I asked her, she got all flustered and wouldn't give me a straight answer. Finally said they were Vitamin C. _Right_. Why would anyone carry around Vitamin C in a prescription bottle with no label?"

"How should I know? Maybe her vitamin bottle was huge and she needed a smaller container to bring some to work."

"Yeah. Or maybe she's a pill popper."

"Alice…"

"What?"

"God, please tell me you haven't done anything stupid. You didn't accuse her, right?"

"Do I look like an idiot? Hell no, that's a huge allegation. We have to go to administration. And you should talk to Edward."

"No. No way I'm bringing this up again. Not without a written and signed confession."

"Well when are you coming home? I say we talk to Kate. Surely they can drug test her or something. Oh, and did you hear they admitted Dr. Cullen to our floor?" she asks, her ADD making a sudden appearance. "Emmett admitted him and Dr. Cullen pissed him off within like…ten minutes of being here. It was hilarious."

I hear Leah's voice down the hall and suddenly remember my original task. Scooping up the first clothes I can find from Edward's bag, I make a beeline down the hallway and close myself in my dad's room.

"Yeah, that sounds funny. We might come home tomorrow. Look, Alice, I gotta go. I'll call you later."

"Okay. I'll keep my eyes peeled for anymore suspicious activity."

"You do that."

I end the call right before entering the bathroom. Edward looks slightly startled to see the door come flying open, but he immediately relaxes when he's sees it's only me. There's a towel wrapped around his waist and the air in the small room is thick with steam. He looks unoccupied, like he's just been waiting around.

"I thought you abandoned me," he half-whines, taking the garments from my hand. "You even took my old clothes."

I push the thoughts of the phone conversation from my mind, determined to keep it to myself for now. "Scared Leah was gonna get ya?" I tease, wiggling my eyebrows maliciously. Edward gives me a dirty look.

"That's not funny."

"Oh, relax, _Nick Carter_. I'll protect you."

He doesn't get my joke.

I break the news to my dad rather early. He's disappointed, but understands, and for dinner he arranges for us to have some of the best Chinese takeout Forks has to offer. He wishes we had fish, which is one of the few things he knows how to cook, but apparently they didn't have time to catch any before Leah took a nosedive off the side of the boat. Sue and Leah don't join us, and I have a feeling it's because Dad wants me all to himself for at least one night. Edward retires early, saying he'll pack our things, and Dad and I spend the remaining evening just talking and catching up.

The next morning, we eat breakfast at the local diner with Dad and leave around ten o'clock. Edward strokes my palm with his fingers for most of the ride home, his touch soothing, and the trip passes quickly.

We stop at the hospital first so we can visit Carlisle. When Edward pulls into the immense car garage, creeping through the dreary levels in search of a parking space, I can't help but ask him why he didn't just use his physician's parking spot. Because I _know_ he has his own parking spot, just as well as I know he gets free food and coffee and someone to wipe his ass if he wants.

"I'm not working today, Bella," he answers with a practiced patience.

"So?"

"So we can park in the garage like every other visitor."

"You're not doing anyone a favor. You're taking a parking spot from us regular folks so now we have less places to park. It's not like we could park in _your_ spot."

"Stop doing that," he says as he eases into a parking place.

"Stop doing what?"

"Putting yourself on a different level than me."

"I'm not doing it. It's just how things are."

He parks the car. Cuts the engine. "I don't like you thinking that way," he says, taking my hand and kissing my knuckles. "'Cause it's not true. A good nurse is worth their weight in gold to a doctor. They wouldn't be nearly as successful without them."

I like the way he says _they _and _them_. Not _we _and _you_. Because he's right, in our case, it's just us. Not doctor and nurse and not them and me.

He kisses me before getting out of the car, and I follow his lead, suddenly a little nervous. While we haven't necessarily tried to hide our relationship, it seems like visiting his father together, while we're both off-duty, is a pretty loud proclamation that we're a couple. Not to mention it'll take place on the floor where I work.

Alice isn't working today, which is fortunate; I'm not ready for her to let her suspicions slip in front of Edward. It'd be supporting my previous accusation and all, but Edward's right: I don't have evidence. Just petty jealousy that doesn't look good in any color.

We go through the main lobby to reach the elevator that'll take us to the fourth floor. People I don't know greet Edward, and I feel like they're staring, but it's nothing mean or unexpected. The first person we see on our floor is Jessica, who's sitting at the desk with the phone cradled between her ear and shoulder. She sees us, pauses, then tries to make eye contact with Edward, but he isn't even looking her way. She takes a deep breath before lowering her eyes again and pretending we don't exist.

I mentally high five Edward, just 'cause I love getting under Jessica's skin and because that was secretly awesome.

We pass by Kate on the way to Carlisle's room, who greets us with a cool familiarity. Then Aro, who says hey to Edward and ignores me, just as expected. Finally Angela, who's gowning up for a room down the hall. She smiles and gives a quick, cautious wave from a distance.

We reach Carlisle's room and Edward knocks, and it's here that I realize I had nothing to worry about.

"Come in!" Carlisle bellows from within.

Well, except this.

-x-x-

Our visit with Carlisle is nothing less than I expected: he's ornery, hungry, and antsy from sitting around all day without working, which is apparently very hard on some people. Who knew?

Carlisle is sitting up on the bed, wearing a plaid, button-down pajama top rather than one of our ratty gowns, and Esme is sitting stiffly in one of the hard, straight-backed chairs that's pushed against the wall. The exhaustion shows in her eyes, and after saying a quick hello to Carlisle, I hang back to talk to her.

"I begged Dr. Handler to give him something to knock him out," she whispers to me about a minute after our arrival. Carlisle is mouthing off to Edward about an open heart surgery he has scheduled for the morning and isn't paying us any attention. "If it was a woman, she would've been more sympathetic."

I secretly agree, although I think Emmett would've gladly done the deed if he had the licensure.

"Do you know when he'll get to go home?" I ask, leaning on the wall beside her.

The sooner the better, I think, and preferably before I return to work.

"Not yet. They're doing an EGD in the morning, so I guess it'll depend on what they find. But his hemoccults were positive, so he's definitely bleeding somewhere." She looks over at Carlisle suddenly and says in a very tired voice, "Carlisle, you know the blood-alcohol level was standard."

"Bella," Carlisle barks, pulling away from his conversation with Edward. "Would you order a blood-alcohol level on a man at eight-thirty in the morning? Or do I come across as a drunk to you?"

I'm taken off-guard by the question. "I guess it would depend on whether or not he seemed drunk," I answer carefully.

"See? Even she would've known not to order the test."

I clench my teeth together and try really, really hard not to mouth off to him in front of Esme and Edward.

"You were dizzy and swaying, Carlisle," Esme interjects impatiently. "You _did_ seem drunk."

"I've been working here twenty years. The least they could do is know whether or not I'm an alcoholic."

"Does it really matter, Dad?" Edward asks reasonably.

"Of course it matters. I'm not paying this joke of an ER for tests I don't even need."

"It's the hospital, which is where _you _work. Not just the ER."

Carlisle looks at Edward with unmasked impatience. "Have you never been taught about budgets? Each unit in this hospital has their own budget that they have to manage…"

I zone out of the conversation after that, quickly excusing myself to go use the bathroom. If I'm lucky, I can procrastinate long enough until Edward is ready to leave, and judging by the annoyed look on his face, it won't be long.

What a clusterfuck. It gives me a whole new appreciation for the type of man Edward became because I can't imagine ever having to deal with Carlisle for any extended amount of time. In fact, I probably would've stabbed him in the throat with a blunt pen and been incarcerated for murder for at least a third of my adult life.

Thank God for Charlie Swan. I should really send him an appreciation card or something, thanking him for my freedom and felony-free record.

After using the bathroom, I hang around the nurses station for a few minutes, chatting and wondering what the hell I'm going to do about the drug situation. I haven't seen Dr. Ellis, but I figure she's probably in surgery. And what am I going to do when I do see her? Confront her? Ask her nicely?

Mike is working on our floor today and he stops by to talk, asking me how I've been and when I'm working again. We're still in conversation when Edward approaches, and Mike shrinks back, suddenly remembering he has lots of important things to do.

Edward doesn't look happy to see us talking, but I chalk most of this up to his conversation with his father. "Are you ready?" he asks irritably.

"Yeah, let me just tell your parents bye."

"'Kay." He hangs back, obviously not eager to step foot in the lion's den again.

When I return, I ask him if he's feeling okay.

"Just tired," he says, reaching forward to take my hand. He winds his fingers with mine and gives them a little squeeze, then leans down and kisses me below my ear. "I'm sorry about that," he whispers.

I smile lightly and squeeze his hand in return, because yes, Carlisle is a pain in the ass. I feel even worse for Edward, actually, because he has to put up with his behavior more often than I do.

But despite everything, Edward wouldn't be here without him. Pain in the ass or not, I'm grateful.

-x-x-

Edward and I return to work the day after the next, and I'm still no closer to finding out anything related to the drugs.

Alice still thinks we should talk to Kate, but I'm on the fence about the idea. Dr. Ellis has been here longer than I have and no hospital in their right mind is going to want to risk losing one of their good surgeons. And they haven't fired me or anything, so I don't necessarily think I should become a pot-stirrer without good reason.

I've just been watching and waiting. And taking care of Dr. Carlisle Cullen, of course. But that's only because Emmett's in charge and he wants to be 'funny.'

It's mid-afternoon when I enter Carlisle's room and find him with a bag of Fritos and a Snickers bar.

"What are you doing?" I bellow angrily, and his eyes widen as soon as I begin advancing on his stash. "You know you're on clear liquids for your test tomorrow. Where did you even get these?" Luckily, the Fritos haven't been opened, but the candy bar has a well-defined bite taken off the end. I snatch the chips off the bed, but he holds the candy out of my reach.

"You're crazy if you think I'm going to lay here and let you people starve me to death," he counters argumentatively.

"Give me that candy bar."

"No."

"I'm gonna tell Dr. Handler what you're doing."

"Good. While you're at it, call the kitchen and have me hamburger sent up."

"I guess you don't want your test tomorrow. I guess you like me so much you want to stay another day."

"Ha! I'd rather drop dead."

"Then why don't you? Oh, right, because you want to make my life miserable first."

"If I was Edward, I'd put you over my knee and teach you how to talk to your superiors."

"If I was Esme, I'd smother you in your sleep with a pillow."

"If _you_ were Esme I'd smother _myself_ with a pillow!"

I rip open his bag of Fritos and turn it upside down over the trashcan, letting the chips sprinkle down like salty raindrops. Then I throw the bag away and storm out of the room, making sure to leave the door open just because he likes it to be closed.

I don't hear from him for over an hour. Then later, when I check on him, I see the uneaten Snickers bar in the trashcan.

He doesn't apologize for his behavior. I don't either. But he talks to me like a person, not his subordinate, and I realize with a small sense of triumph that I may finally have discovered how to handle Edward's crass father.

Strangely, this new relationship seems to work for us.

A little later, I go to the break room for something to snack on. Angela is there warming up something in the microwave, and Emmett follows on my heels, eager to know what kind of food I might have.

"It's nothing you'd be interested in," I tell him. "Just yogurt and almonds."

"Chocolate-covered almonds?" he asks hopefully.

"Uhh… no. Just the plain, gross kind."

"Fuck it, hand 'em over."

I toss him the Ziploc bag and dig my yogurt out of the packed refrigerator. Around a mouthful of nuts, Emmett says, "Alice told me about Dr. Ellis."

"Yeah? What do you think?"

"I think it's very convenient. Seems like she wants it to be her just as much as you do." He finally swallows, then looks thoughtful. "But… it wouldn't hurt to bring it up to Kate. She's cool and if she doesn't agree, you guys can just forget the whole thing."

"I'm not doing that." The old refrigerator rattles when I close it. "There's no proof, and I don't want to create a bunch of drama if I'm wrong."

"The person who stole the drugs created the drama. Not you."

"And what if it's not her? I'd be accusing her for no good reason."

"And what if it _is_ her? Frankly, I wouldn't want my patients being operated on by a doped-up surgeon. Besides, she doesn't have to know you said it anything. It could be anonymous."

"Nothing is ever anonymous around here." I turn to Angela, who's snatching her food out of the microwave. "What would you do, Angela?"

She looks surprised at being addressed. "I, uh… I don't know." She has a cup of hot chocolate, I realize, and she begins stirring it a brisk pace almost immediately. "Maybe you _should_ say something."

"See?" Emmett says smugly.

"I'll still need to think about it."

"Think quickly. Before the drugs get out of her system."

"Yes, father," I say dryly.

He nods approvingly. "Good girl."

Esme comes to visit about an hour later and brings two boxes of shortbread cookies from another of her _Barefoot Contessa_ recipes. She offers one to the floor as a thanks for taking care of Carlisle, and the other she gives to me to take home for me and Edward. She would have given them to him, she says, but we all know how fickle men are and she didn't want to embarrass him in front of all his nurse and doctor friends.

Emmett devours half the box almost immediately and insists I'm only allowed to eat cookies from my own box, not the one she gave to the floor, because otherwise I'm just being greedy. But he agrees to share one cookie from the floor box if I promise to talk to Kate. I hunker down with my own cookies and don't consider it much of a loss.

Esme shuts the door to Carlisle's room, and I figure since she's here I can finally get a reprieve from him for a while. I check on my other patients before realizing I have a missed text from Edward. He's most likely seeing how I'm holding up with his father. He stopped by this morning to drop off coffee and give me sympathetic looks, then came again later with some of those chocolate cookies from the doctor's lounge I love so much. I'm pretty sure he feels bad, knowing what I've had to deal with all day.

He only stopped to talk to Carlisle once, and then only for a few brief minutes. Lucky bastard.

I head for the break room so I can check my message. There's no one there, so I take a seat on top of the table, resting my feet on the seat of one of the chairs. I was right – Edward is simply asking how I'm doing. I quickly type out my reply, checking the time on my phone, counting down the minutes until I'm off work and can cozy up next to him on the couch. Maybe I can pout about Carlisle a little and get a sympathy foot-rub.

Something vibrates loudly on the counter, near the microwave, and I look over to see Angela's phone laying face-down on the laminate. I ignore it at first, but when it vibrates twice more only a few moments later, I hop off the counter to pick it up, thinking I'll take to her so she can check her messages.

When I flip it over and glance at the screen, however, the dimly-glowing message catches my eye.

_Hello? Are you there? If they don't suspect you then why would you say anything? Don't act stupid._

I read it once, twice, and my pulse rate automatically quickens as my thoughts race into overdrive. Does this have anything to do with the drugs? Did _Angela_ take them? Or maybe I'm just being paranoid and jumping to conclusions. It wouldn't be the first time.

I stare at the phone in my hand, then look at the break room door. Then the phone. The door.

_Fuck it._

I click on the message, opening up the entire conversation. The screen grows invitingly bright, the words appearing in a mere instant at the simple touch of my finger. I read them backwards, starting with the most recent texts, working my way up. They're texts that answer all my questions, laying Alice's earlier claims to rest. Texts that make my heart thunder against my chest with such force than I'm sure half the hospital can hear.

The break room door flies open suddenly, squeaking on its hinges, and I'm so startled that I drop the phone. It falls to the tile, protected by its case, and lands face-up for both me and the intruder to see.

Angela freezes with her hand on the door knob, her wide eyes glued to her fallen phone. She doesn't seem to breathe, but then neither do I.

I take a wary step back as she lunges and snatches her phone off the floor. She looks at the screen, as if seeking confirmation in what I saw, and then raises fearful eyes to mine.

"You read my text messages?" she says accusingly.

"_You_ stole the pills?" I counter.

Emmett saunters into the room, lazily chewing on a shortbread cookie. He eyes us both with raised eyebrows. Angela's chest turns red, then her neck, and finally her face, all while she struggles for words.

She finally responds by bursting into tears.

Emmett looks from me to Angela, the cookie hanging halfway to his lips, his eyes widened in alarm.

"What'd you _do_ to her?" he asks me, his voice uneasy. He looks utterly befuddled at the sight of a sobbing, hysterical female.

Angela begins wiping at her eyes, trying to speak, but the words aren't discernable. I turn to Emmett and say, "I think we're going to need a minute."

He doesn't need any further invitation to flee the room.

Angela shakes her head and tries to follow him, saying, "I can't—"

I move and stand steadfastly in her way, blocking her exit. Even though Angela's taller than me by almost five inches, she's skinny and wispy and I'm almost positive I can manhandle her into staying if I have to.

"We need to talk first, Angela," I say firmly. "You took the drugs? _You_?" When she doesn't respond, I throw my hands up and exclaim, "At least tell me why!"

"I had to, okay! You wouldn't understand."

"You're right, I probably wouldn't. Steal them under your own name next time," I say rudely. I can see the hurt in her eyes, but right now I don't care. I'm furious – absolutely incensed – at what she did to me. At nearly costing me my job, my career, and possibly even my relationship with Edward.

Because what respectable, driven doctor would want a relationship with a has-been nurse who lost her license for narcotic theft? That's a fear I didn't want to confront, a fear I subconsciously locked away, choosing to face it only if the time came. It's possible nothing would have come of this – that the whole situation would have blown over, and been forgotten in time – but the chance, however small, that it _wouldn't _blow over is what worried and nagged at me.

Angela tries to leave again, but I once again block her away. "I hope you're planning on calling Kate when you walk out of here."

Angela scowls and says, "It's not like you even got in trouble." Even though tears still fall, it's clear that anger is replacing her initial hysteria.

"Well, I can't say the same will happen for you." She looks at me, her wet face composed, her eyes cold. It suddenly occurs to me that she may try to deny it. Would she fail a drug test? Is she high on pills right now?

The phone is still in her hand, and I gauge how hard it would be to wrestle it from her, to hold it ransom until she confesses everything. Or, if need be, to turn it over as hard evidence. It was stupid of me to allow her to have it back to begin with, but I was so shocked I wasn't thinking clearly.

"You know, I thought I was always nice to you," I say, hoping to get through to her with a healthy dose of guilt. "I stood up for you and everything. On my second day."

"Yeah, and that worked out well for you, didn't it?" she says with a snotty snort, probably thinking of how Edward and I are together now. I slept with the enemy, so to speak. She quickly wipes her nose with the back of her hand and sadly adds, "But you _were_ nice to me. I'm sorry, I didn't single you out or anything."

Perhaps that should be comforting, but I realize it doesn't matter. In the end, Angela doesn't mean anything to me. But what she almost cost me does.

Still weighing my options, I hold out my hand and say, "Can I have your phone?"

Her eyes widen, her grip on the phone tightening. "What? No."

"Just until you call Kate."

"I can call Kate without giving you my phone."

"I don't trust you."

"I'm sorry, but no."

"Fine, I'll call her now. And you can tell her everything." I pull my own cell phone from my pocket and look up her number. Angela stands stoically, unmoving, and when Kate's line rings I put the call on speakerphone.

"Hello," Kate answers, her easy voice filling the small break room. It sounds windy on her end, like she's driving, which is plausible – she got off work over an hour ago.

"Hey Kate, it's Bella. Angela is here and she has something to tell you." I thrust the phone at Angela, urging – no, _demanding_ – that she confess. She takes the phone with shaky hands, her eyes welling with tears again, but my adrenaline is coursing too hard to permit any sympathy.

With a trembling voice and a few leaked tears, Angela confesses everything.

-x-x-

**Medical References:**

**EGD** - a test in which they run a scope, with a camera, down your mouth into your stomach so they can see what's going on inside, stop some bleeding, or take biopsies

-x-x-

A/N: I know, I know. I've taken forever again. On the bright side, this is it... the final chapter will be up Wednesday and the epi will be up Friday. So no more long waits, and hopefully that makes up for it maybe a tiny little bit *pouty face*

Passionmama and ms-ambrosia preread and beta'd and are just plain awesome. Thanks to everyone else for reading and reviewing!

What The Fun from Twi-Muses did an interview with me, you can check it out here: www(dot)twimuses(dot)com(slash)2011(slash)05(slash)interview-with-mybluesky(dot)html?zx=863f5f4b87fd6284 - just replace the dots and slashes

See you Wednesday!

xoxo


	27. Chapter Twenty Six

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

-x-x-x-x-

**Chapter 26 - Oh, What A Glorious Thing We Have**

"You were right." I throw down my bag, purse, and jacket, then begin emptying my many pockets full of paraphernalia in the form of pens, scissors, tape, and alcohol swabs. Edward is still in his scrubs, having gotten off shortly before I did, and he looks at me with confusion.

"I was right about what?"

"It was Angela. Angela took the drugs." I yank my stethoscope from around my neck and sling it into my bag, then plop down on the couch beside Edward. My pride is taking a damaging hit right now, but I suck it up. This is how Edward would have felt if I'd been right.

But I wasn't right. Not even close. Light years away, as a matter of fact.

Had I really accused Dr. Ellis simply because I was jealous? It seems absurd now.

To Edward's credit, he doesn't say "I told you so," or make me feel worse in any way. Instead, his surprise lights up his face, his excitement impossible to mask. "Are you serious? What happened?" he asks. "Did she admit to taking them?"

"I went through her phone," I say unapologetically, ignoring the way Edward's eyebrow arches in a silent question. "She sent texts to her boyfriend talking about it. And then she caught me snooping and I confronted her."

"What made you snoop? I didn't think you thought it was her."

"I didn't." I proceed to tell him how I saw the incriminating text come through on her phone, which led me to read the rest of them. I also tell him how she called Kate and told her everything, which resulted in Kate returning to work to have a private, in-person conversation with Angela in her office. Angela was dismissed early, in tears, and Emmett, Shelly and I had to divide up and take care her patients for the remainder of the shift.

All in all, it made for a very long day.

"Anyway," I conclude, leaning over to steal a kiss from Edward before slipping off the couch, "I'm going to take a shower. Emmett's doing drinks at his house again and I thought we could go." Lord knows I could use at least five drinks right now.

"Alright, but I have to work tomorrow," Edward says, standing and following me to the bathroom. He strips off his clothes as I strip off mine, and I discreetly appreciate him through the large mirror. Then he catches my gaze and grins crookedly, and I awkwardly hide a blush because he _still _has that affect on me.

"That means you can be designated driver." I successfully avoid ogling his naked body as I say this, instead focusing my attention on adjusting the water temperature.

"Designated driver, eh?" he says as I hop into the shower. "Is that all I'm good for?"

"One of the few things," I tease.

I stand beneath Edward's many shower sprays, letting the hot water hit my shoulders and hair, sighing as it slowly eases all the worries of my day. Edward approaches me from behind and just barely presses our bodies together before planting a soft kiss on my neck. He runs his fingers lightly down my arms, then over my bottom, finally settling on the heat between my legs.

I moan softly and lean back into him, allowing his strength to support me.

"I'm happy for you, baby," he murmurs quietly in my ear. I turn around and wrap my arms around his neck, pressing my chest against his. He smiles down at me, then places a wet kiss on my lips, the sprays around us creating a thick condensation that beads and drips on skin untouched by the multiple streams of water.

"Me too," I say after another sweet, lingering kiss. Just standing here with his arms around me, knowing I'll be supported no matter what life throws my way, makes the events of this day and the ones to come even remotely tolerable.

-x-x-

We make it to Emmett's at a quarter past nine. His neighborhood is quiet, the streetlights casting a calm, yellow glow across the roads and houses. From the exterior, it would be easy to assume an elderly couple lives here, each tucking into bed as soon as the sun sets behind the two-story paneled home across the street.

No one would ever guess it's the home of Emmett, the loud-mouthed male nurse with an attitude the size of Kansas and enough pride to fuel a small army.

As we make our way to the side door and the steady strum of music is finally heard, I jokingly remind Edward that this is where I first unleashed the power of the tatas upon him.

"The power of the tatas?" he questions with amusement. "Is that what's happened to me these past few weeks?"

"They're so powerful even my ratty work bra couldn't hold you back."

"Yeah… what happened to that bra, by the way?"

"Hmm? Oh, it's uh…I think it's at the apartment somewhere," I say evasively, not wanting to tell him I trashed it as soon as it appeared like I might be getting laid again. I never would have worn the darn thing if I'd thought there was a chance in hell he would see it. Now my work bras consist of fancy, lacy things with painful underwires that dig into my ribcage but provide ample amounts of cleavage. Because who needs comfort when there's the prospect of spontaneous on-call room rendezvous?

"Should we knock or just go straight in?" I ask, briskly changing the subject. The music seems loud at the door, and I'm not sure they'd hear us even if we do knock.

"Let's just go in." He pushes the door open, leading us both straight into the kitchen. The light's on and various forms of alcohol containers rest on the counter, currently unattended. All the voices and music stream in from the living room.

Jasper, Alice, Irina, Mike, Eric from transport, and another guy I don't know are there. Sitting on the end of one couch is Emmett, and by his side, wearing heels and an elegant jacket, is Dr. Hale.

She's impossible to miss. Sitting stiffly, almost like she's unwilling to let herself get comfortable, she's entirely out of place among the rest of the group. I didn't think she and Emmett were seeing each other anymore, but that changes so often that it's hard to keep up. And he's never been exactly forthcoming about his relationship – or lack thereof – with her. The last I heard, she was seeing someone else.

Maybe she still is, but her knee touches his in such an unobvious way that makes me wonder.

Her eyes light up when she sees us, and I assume it's probably because Edward is one of the few people she really knows here. Greetings are made all around, and Emmett stands to make me a strong celebratory drink, announcing to everyone that I single-handedly eliminated a drug thief amongst our staff.

I hit him on the arm to shush him. Angela may have been dismissed early today, but it doesn't necessarily mean she's gone for good, and even so, it's still pretty crass of him to throw a celebration.

"What?" he says defensively. "You _did_ get rid of a drug thief."

"Oh my God, Bella," Alice says, bursting into the kitchen after us, "I can _not _believe it was her. Did you know? I would've bet both boobs and an ovary that I was right about Dr. Ellis."

"Calm down, Alice," I shush her, suddenly overwhelmed with the attention I'm receiving over this. It's only been three hours, but apparently that's plenty of time for Emmett to make a public announcement to the entire hospital. "We don't even know why she took them."

"_Calm down_? I grieved for you, Bella. I don't know what I would've done if that had happened to me. Actually, you know what? I think I would've punched her in the face when I found out."

Alice is too excited, and there's no reasoning with her. I take my cup from Emmett and gulp half the drink right there in the kitchen – nearly choking, because God almighty it's strong – then head back to the living room to find Edward and Dr. Hale in a deep discussion about a patient they've both been taking care of.

Alice, Irina and I talk about work, then about a tiny, fantastic restaurant Irina discovered that neither Alice nor I have eaten at. We agree to go there together soon, because it's been too long since we've hung out. Then we talk about working out, brooding over what slackers we've become and promising ourselves that we'll do better starting this weekend, and then move to other topics that are equally inconsequential.

I make another drink while Mike and Eric start up an Xbox tournament, both of them sitting on Emmett's shaggy, arguably dirty carpet. Dr. Hale asks me how I've been, and we begin a short, slightly awkward conversation about work and Edward's father, of all things.

"You had to be his nurse?" She snorts, a trait uncharacteristic of her primmed and poised air. "That's epic. Did you give him hell from all of us?"

I don't bother hiding my surprise. "You don't like him?" She is a doctor, after all. I would have thought they'd get along swimmingly for that reason alone.

"Like him?" She's confused. "Do _you_ like him?"

"Well… no. But he gives me shit about being a nurse."

"Exactly. I've never had a tolerance for it," she says, shrugging. "My mom's a nurse, you know. She's sixty-two years old and still one of the best there is."

"Really?" I ask in surprise. "That's great. What does your dad do?"

"My stepdad is an accountant. My real dad left us when I was three, so my mom raised me and my little brother by herself. She worked and went to school while she was pregnant with him." The pride in her voice is unmistakable.

"Does your mom work at Harborview?" I ask, wondering if I've seen her somewhere without even knowing it.

"Nah, she lives in Oregon. I'm from Astoria."

"What about you?" I ask curiously. "Did you always want to be a doctor?"

She takes a deliberate sip of her drink, suddenly deep in thought. "Yeah, I really did," she finally says. "Even when I was little. I thought about being a nurse, but I mentioned being a doctor once and Mom always encouraged me to do medical school after that. I think she always had a secret fear I'd end up like her… single and struggling to raise kids. Which is ridiculous, because she did an awesome job. And I've never even wanted kids." She wrinkles her nose while taking another drink, draining her glass.

Emmett plops down next to her on the couch, once again not touching her except with the discreet press of his thigh. Edward sits next to me and reaches for my hand, winding my fingers with his. Both of them just returned from the kitchen, and Emmett swaps Dr. Hale's drink with a full cup, which she accepts with a grateful smile.

It's strange, watching them. However comfortable they are in private, a subtle awkwardness surrounds them in the presence of company. Like they want to be closer but resist. Like he wants to hold her hand, too, but refrains for whatever reason or excuse he can make today.

I wonder if he knows her mom is a nurse – that it's the person she respects, not their occupation.

Another drink later and I make my way to the bathroom. The one in the hallway is occupied, so I slowly make my way into Emmett's room, deciding I'll use his master bathroom real quick – I'm tipsy, and impervious to the bachelor-style dirt and grime I'm soon to face.

After doing my business, I open the door, lean heavily on the door frame for a moment, and pause.

A curriculum for Seattle University rests on his bedside table, and the _School of Nursing _logo captures my attention, drawing me closer. I try to battle my inner snoop, telling myself this will be twice in one day, but I figure I can just take a peek, see if it's what I think it is, and never speak of this to him or anyone. I can pretend I never saw a thing and wait patiently until he's ready to own up to his plans.

I inch closer until I can read the top of the application, craning my neck so I can see it properly.

It's for the nurse practitioner program. _I knew it_.

"What are you doing?"

I jump at the sound of Emmett's voice, then swing around to face him. He stomps over to where I'm standing and snatches the curriculum off the table. For a minute, I'm worried he's going to ball it up and throw it away, but he simply opens the drawer on the table and stuffs it inside.

"Is that what I think it is?" I ask him, hiding a smile.

"It's nothing."

"I'm really happy for you, you know. I still don't think it's necessary, but I know it'll make you happier in the long run."

"Well it's a bit early to throw a fucking party," he grumbles. "I haven't been accepted yet. And I'd appreciate you not running your mouth about shit that hasn't even happened."

"What do you mean? Of course it'll happen."

He turns to me, his blue eyes unnaturally serious. "Look… I just don't want people knowing if I get rejected, okay?"

I understand where he's coming from, although I know he doesn't give a damn what people think about him.

Except for her.

"Your secret's safe with me," I promise, pretending to zip my lips. "Although I still think it's great. When you _do _get accepted we can throw a party!"

"Don't hold you breath," he mutters, making his way past me to the bathroom. The self-doubt rolls off him in waves, but he hides it carefully behind an annoyed expression and straight, set shoulders. If I didn't know him, I'd think he was just being his usual, self-righteous, grumpy self. "Now get out of my room and quit snooping through my shit." The bathroom door slams behind him, effectively locking me out.

-x-x-

Angela was officially fired. It was never announced or anything, and Kate won't speak of it, but I heard it through the grapevine and since she hasn't worked any of her shifts this past week, I'm pretty sure it's true.

Things don't feel very different with her gone, with the news of the drug thief out. I thought I'd feel different – happier, even – knowing I'm no longer to blame, but instead I replay every conversation with Angela through my head and try to see the subtle signs I may have missed. Signs that she's a drug addict.

Edward thinks the signs are obvious, but I don't think he ever liked her to begin with. He may have a point, though, especially when he asks things like whether or not she worked overtime or whether her patients were always complaining about unrelieved pain. She did work overtime a lot, but I don't really remember her patients complaining excessively. Then there was the crying, of course, but I kindly remind Edward that he _was_ a dick to her that day.

It's not until payday, a week later, that I get any answers.

I've been at work three hours when I realize I left my phone in my car, which is no fun because it means I can't send dirty texts to Edward. Today I didn't park in the garage, but in the open parking lot out back, which is past the human resources building. I like parking here even though it's a longer walk because sometimes, when I get stuck behind a cautious driver, it can take all day to crawl up or down the six levels in the garage. And when you're racing into work at the last minute, seconds count.

I make the trek outside and retrieve my phone. And then barely avoid slamming into Angela as I pass by human resources.

It's obvious she's flustered over seeing me. She smoothes her hair behind her ears twice, then crams her paycheck in her purse and turns away. I figure that's that, yet I still can't help notice that she seems healthy, not sleepless and starved from an uncontrolled addiction.

Just as I turn to enter the hospital, her voice stops me. "I'm sorry, okay?"

I pause. There are a few feet of space between us now, but she's facing me, her face a little pinched but otherwise controlled.

"Excuse me?"

"I shouldn't have taken the drugs from under your name," she clarifies. "But I saw an opportunity and I didn't have a choice."

"Yeah, I'm not sure I understand…" I say doubtfully. You have a choice. You always have a choice.

"I wouldn't expect you to!" she snaps in exasperation. "You don't know what it's like, what I've put up with! All of you can keep judging me, but it doesn't change anything. I'm a _good_ person!" She points at herself with the last statement, reiterating her point.

She stomps off before I can formulate a reply, and I realize I'll probably never know for sure why she took the drugs. But I'm almost certain they're not for her, that she's carrying a larger weight on her shoulders than any of us realize. I never bothered to get to know her, to _really _get to know her, and whether that's a good or bad thing, I know it means I'll never be privy to whatever burden she bears. And perhaps she prefers it that way.

I want to watch her go with indifference. To be glad of her riddance. To throw a party and celebrate like Emmett.

But she's jobless and she suffers, and all I can muster is a surely unwanted dose of pity.

-x-x-

I do a lot of thinking in the weeks that follow.

Most of it's about the relationships I harbor – the one with myself and the one with Edward. When I moved here from Florida, I was worried about defining myself as a person. I wanted to be single, independent, and discover who I really was, not the reflection of myself caused by my reliance on other people. I didn't want to lose myself in a man.

I'd done that once, and for a while I considered it years wasted. And maybe it was. But it brought me to where I am today – it made me the person I am, defining my decisions and leading me to take control of my life. It brought me to Seattle, to Edward. It forced me to evaluate myself and discover what it is that makes me happy.

The knowledge of total independence didn't make me happy. The 'freedom' of being single, of facing each day alone, didn't do it either.

Sharing life with my other half makes me happy. Knowing he'll be there to support me, to hold my hand when I need reassurance or to argue with me when I need perspective. Knowing he won't judge me for my mistakes and that he'll learn with me, grow with me, and help guide me. Knowing he'll be there when I fall asleep and always, always when I wake up, whether it's pressed against my back or through a text message or phone call. Even when we fight, even when he infuriates me, I know I wouldn't change a single thing.

I don't feel lost. I feel discovered, completed, as if Edward has helped me reach my full potential as a person, rather than someone who grasps around trying to find her way. I may not have been ready and the timing may not have been convenient, but life so rarely is.

I haven't heard from Alec again since the drunken phone call. I spoke to Lauren once and she was vague, alluding to the fact that he's finally moved on. That he barely remembers that phone call and is mortified, even though he hasn't attempted to apologize. But I'm fine with that, because he's part of a distant life I'd rather let go of, and the disconnection between us makes that easier.

I think about Dr. Ellis some. Edward doesn't talk about her, and as far as I know their relationship has dwindled. They give polite smiles in the hallway, but otherwise keep their distance. I think Edward still feels bad about the night she brought him home, especially when I finally explained to him that it would be like Alec bringing me home after a drunken night at a bar. It was scenario he didn't seem to appreciate, and the discussion hasn't been brought up again since.

I feel bad, but the thought of him hanging out with her, laughing and maybe even unconsciously flirting a little, makes me feel infinitely worse.

I'm sitting behind a computer in the nurses' station looking up labs. When Dr. Ellis passes by, disappearing into the dictation room, I react without thinking, standing without hesitation and following her inside. She's just opening the chart she carried in and turns around at the sound of the door opening. When she sees it's me, she smiles tightly, then turns back around and begins flipping through pages.

"Bella," she says cordially, resuming her work, and I stand there a moment while wondering what the hell I'm doing. What the hell I planned on saying. Because everything is suddenly a blank.

I clear my throat. "Dr…. Ellis." The use of her formal name hangs in the air, highlighting the emotional barrier between us.

"Did you need something?" she asks without looking back.

I look at the sink, wondering if I can just pretend I was coming to wash my hands. Dr. Ellis flips to the _X-ray_ section and begins reading a CT report as if I'm not even there.

"Actually, uh, yeah." I don't bother sitting down because I don't plan on this taking long. "I wanted to say I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"I don't think I was always that nice to you. And if I was, well… I wasn't always thinking nice things. And you haven't done anything to me… well, besides insinuate that you still like Edward…"

"Edward's a great guy," she says conversationally, her eyes still glued to the chart in front of her. "Any girl would be a fool not to like him."

"Right."

"It's fine if you don't like me, Bella."

"I want to like you. For Edward."

She shoots me a look over her shoulder. "Why waste your time?" Her tone is doubtful yet curious.

"I'm not. It's just… remember when someone stole drugs under my name? Well, I figured it was you. I didn't have a good reason to think that, I was just being kind of petty I guess. And I don't want to be that kind of person. Plus, I can understand if two people are better as friends than they are romantically. And if you enjoy Edward's _friendship_—" I punctuate the word "—as much as he enjoys yours, then I would really like to try and be okay with it. So, yeah… that's why I kind of want to like you. Unless you want to steal him away from me or something, in which case I'll continue hating you."

Dr. Ellis turns around fully, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. She regards me with keen eyes. "Are you being serious right now?"

I'm not sure if I should be insulted. "Yes."

"So you really _do_ like him, huh?"

"I love him."

"Good." She smiles, and with her red hair, fair skin, and light, deep-set eyes, it occurs to me that she really is a beautiful woman. And yet I no longer feel threatened by this. "I'm glad he's with someone who loves him enough to do what you're doing. 'Cause not everyone would."

"Yeah, thanks."

"I was actually going to get lunch after this. Did you… I dunno, did you want to join me?"

The question is awkward, as is the entire situation, but I feel a small sense of relief nonetheless.

"Sure," I say, my tension easing. "That would be really nice."

-x-x-

We eat in the cafeteria around other people. The conversation is forced and strained – everything I expected it to be – but with other people nearby, each engaging in their own discussions, the silence between us isn't quite so stifling. It's uncomfortable, but bearable.

We talk about the food for a while. My fish is baked to a dry, cardboard-type consistency, and I make a mental note to never get it again. Emmett would be appalled to know I waivered from the standard hotdog and occasional fries. Dr. Ellis has a bowl of taco salad and the grease glistens over the meat like a shiny, artery-clogging cloak.

Talk of Dr. Biers comes next. Dr. Ellis doesn't like him either. Go figure.

Finally, we resort to conversations about the weather. Which is wet.

Edward never comes up.

When we part, it's not with a real sense of satisfaction. I don't feel like I made much of a difference in our relationship, and I'm not so sure I'll think any differently of Dr. Ellis from now on. But now, at least, we have an excuse to be civil. She knows she can talk to Edward at work without worrying about me lurking in the shadows with a rusty scalpel and a syringe full of poison. And while I don't plan on telling Edward about my vain attempt at salvation, I hope he at least benefits a little from what I tried to do.

That's really the most I can hope for.

-x-x-

A month later, Alice stops me in the break room on my way in to work.

"Did you hear what happened?" she asks, teeming with excitement.

"No, what?"

"Dr. Biers doesn't have privileges here anymore. I heard he's even going under evaluation over his medical license."

"_What_?" I grin, my elation at the news perking up an otherwise uneventful morning. "What happened? Piss someone off one-too-many times? Try to kill another patient?" I wish I could claim that the last comment was said jokingly.

"Both. Well, kind of," she answers casually. "Apparently, he argued with the staff over the right site during surgery. The ass-hat was going to operate on the wrong arm! Can you believe that?"

Hell yes I can believe it. I'm just disappointed he wasn't sacked sooner, and that it took him nearly making another huge mistake for the hospital administration to open their eyes and take action.

When I say as much, Alice simply shakes her head in agreement. "At least he's gone now. That's one blessing for the day."

I put my stuff in my locker and follow Alice to the nurses' station. Emmett is orienting a newcomer to replace Angela, a girl in her late-twenties who reminds me a lot of myself: she moved here from Oregon after a rocky divorce, and while we differ in that she has a three-year-old child, she came here seeking what I sought – independence, liberation. A new life.

Mike has already hit on the newcomer twice. She blushed when she talked to him, but when I asked her about it, she stated that she isn't ready for a new relationship.

"I'm just getting settled in, you know?" she tells me. "Besides, I think I like being single. Now I can look _and _touch. Plus there's no one there to bitch at me when I get home. Nothing but peace and quiet," she concludes dreamily.

I don't argue, because I felt the same way to a certain point. But you don't always get to choose the order of your life. Things happen, and almost always for a reason, even if you have to dig deep to find it.

Life is unpredictable, rarely going down the path you intend to take. Yet if you open your mind and your heart, the outcomes can be glorious.

-x-x-

A/N: We are at the end, ladies and gentlemen(?). All we have left is the epilogue, which may be up Friday, but since I'm working it might be Saturday. Saturday will definitely be the latest.

Thanks, as usual, go to ms-ambrosia and passionmama for all they do. And thank you all so so much for reading and reviewing.

See ya soon!

xo


	28. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

-x-x-x-x-

**Epilogue - Five Years Gone By**

"Do you want more ice?"

"No."

"I think you need more ice. Your forehead is getting all shiny."

"_God_, Alice. Leave me alone."

"Don't act cranky, I'm just trying to help."

"Edward…" I whine. "Make her stop. _Please _God, make her stop."

"Alice," he berates in a warning tone, his voice sounding from my right, and the two of them get into a hushed argument that ends with her huffing and giving us both the stink eye. Which is perfectly fine by me, because at least she's no longer talking.

"I'm sure if Esme wanted her to have ice, they'd bring her ice," my mother says reasonably from across the room. She's sitting in a little fold-out chair, looking out of place with her dark tan, white capris, and flip-flops.

"Sure they would," my dad agrees. He's standing by the wall, too anxious to sit, and checks his watch for possibly the thousandth time. "Where is she, anyway?" His eyes scan the room, as if expecting Esme to pop out of the shadows at any given moment. They settle on Edward. "Shouldn't she be back by now?"

"The nurse will call her when Bella's ready," Edward explains.

"What if she doesn't get here on time? Does the nurse know how to deliver a baby?"

"Dad, it's under control," I say tiredly. "Stop worrying."

"My boss's wife had her baby in the car, Bella. Just popped the thing out like a pressure cooker. Of course I'm gonna worry."

"Charles!" My mother looks scandalized, but apparently not enough to keep from adding, "Edward and Alice are both here. Between a doctor and a nurse, they'd never let Bella become a pressure cooker."

"Thanks, Mom."

"All I'm saying is we should be prepared for the worst," Dad argues.

Mom and Dad begin bickering with each other, just like old times, and Alice taps her foot on the floor at a rapid speed, actively partaking in one of her more annoying habits. Edward rubs his hand down my forearm, avoiding the IV, and says in my ear, "I can kick them out if you want."

He's been like this since the pregnancy: attentive and thoughtful, always making sure I have what I need, ensuring that I never carry anything too heavy or that I'm not on my feet too long. I wanted to work up until my due date, despite Edward's protests, but in my third trimester, Esme sided with Edward and I was overruled.

It's funny how she remained my doctor after all. I attempted to switch to another office, but I had an honest-to-God dream about her place – about the waterfall, the soothing music, the coffee – and I was simply unable to part with it afterwards. When I tried to make my next appointment with Dr. Cooper, Esme must have snagged my file for herself, because I was forced to endure another awkward exam beneath her scrutiny.

I haven't had the heart to say anything since. Especially since the pregnancy, which brought tears of joy to her eyes. She's been so excited at the thought of delivering our baby.

I suppose Alice has been right about some things. But at least now I won't have to choose between allowing Esme or my mom in the delivery room. Alice was downright gleeful over this detail whenever I brought it up, exclaiming, "I _told _you letting Esme be your coochie doctor had its perks!"

The nurse comes in and makes everyone except Edward leave the room so that she can do an internal exam. He holds my hand, rubbing my knuckles with his thumb, and she announces that I'm seven centimeters dilated before glancing at my IV bags and leaving the room.

Carlisle files in with the rest of the crew, dressed in baby-blue surgical scrubs with a matching cap on his head.

"Seven centimeters?" I hear him say. "You _trying_ to hold it in, Bella? I have to do a valve repair in an hour."

"You can come back when you're done, Dad," Edward says tiredly, answering for me.

"What? And be the last person to see my grandson?"

Carlisle has assumed it's a boy ever since we announced the pregnancy, even though we decided not to find out the gender until the birth. He once stated that I'm carrying the child the same way Esme carried Edward, whatever that means. Esme knows the sex, of course, but I made her swear on her beloved _Barefoot Contessa _that she wouldn't say a word to her husband.

"Oh, did you find out it's a boy?" my mom says excitedly.

"Of course it's a boy," Carlisle interjects loudly. "Look at how big she is!"

A hushed horror falls over the room, and then everyone reprimands him at the same time. I just shake my head, completely unsurprised.

Some things will never change. Carlisle and I have continued to banter, to insult, to try to get the best of each other. Edward's never understood it, and yet he's always submitted to his father's nonsense, taking Carlisle's subtle insults and absorbing them like a punching bag. But I've long since discovered that that just makes his behavior worse.

Carlisle stood up for me once. Two years ago, I received the chiding of a lifetime from a doctor over an order that was written and not completed the day before. The doctor blamed nurses in general for our incompetence and insisted I call the supervisor and explain why the patient had yet to make a full recovery. Carlisle witnessed the event, took the doctor aside, and I soon thereafter received a brief apology from the doctor with the assurance that he would take care of the problem himself.

It may not seem like much from a normal person, but Carlisle's brief act of kindness proved that he likes me. Just a little.

Maybe.

The feeling is mutual, whatever it is.

A few minutes later, Esme comes and checks in on me, then gets called away for something else. Carlisle tells the nurse to bring him a cup of coffee, and when she refuses, he disappears for the cafeteria. Emmett and Dr. Hale – Rosalie – show up a half hour later, just in time for the nurse to come in and clear the room again.

I'm nine centimeters dilated.

"Any minute now," she says happily while trashing her gloves.

I'm nervous and my mouth is dry, but there's no way I'm going to say anything lest Alice tries to shovel more ice down my throat. I thought I was prepared for this, what with the _Labor and Delivery_ class I took in college and all the re-watching of that gory _Knocked Up_ delivery scene I forced upon myself. But no, not even hours upon hours of bloody, shiny crowning could ready me for this moment of my life.

As soon as they had rolled me into the birthing suite, I grabbed Edward by his shirt-sleeve and told him to get me a damn epidural ASAP and that I didn't care what he had to do to get it. I'd have willingly turned a blind eye to just about anything if it made the pain stop. It never even crossed my mind to go without this miraculous form of pain management, especially as the contractions wracked me from deep within and threatened to split my lower back open.

Now, I can barely feel anything from the waist down and the contractions are nothing but a dull, painless pressure, each spell coming and going with an increasing consistency. On the little monitor above my head is the baby's heartbeat, faster than my own, and I catch Edward watching it frequently, his eyes shifting upwards and his features relaxing with each reassuring glance.

I told Edward he doesn't have to watch the actual delivery – that I won't be offended or anything – but the whole birthing process doesn't seem to bother him. He's been moderately calm throughout the ordeal, even when the contractions started before my water broke. It probably has something to do with him being a doctor, and you'd think I'd be the same way as a nurse, but the thought of his peen ripping open and a baby human emerging makes my insides want to spasm and die. I just assumed he'd feel the same way.

The crew comes in again, but it seems like only minutes pass before the nurse is ushering them out once more, apparently acting on some kind of vaginal instinct. She does a final exam and announces that I'm fully dilated and that she's leaving to go call Esme.

Just the thought of what's to come causes me to sweat a little. Edward comes to my aid, giving me ice without me even having to ask, and strokes my hair soothingly. If they allowed it, and if there was more room, I think he'd even sit in the bed with me.

My mother is the only person they'll allow in the room with us. Esme comes in and does another internal exam – which is no longer awkward at this point – and on her command, people begin taking apart the bed. My feet are placed into the stirrups and the overhead light, which is as large as the flippin' sun and possibly even brighter, is spotlighted directly on my vag.

Esme squeezes my hand in reassurance before we begin. "This is it! You ready?" she asks excitedly, and all I can do is grimace in return.

_This is it._

Edward holds my hand, his grip firm, and I hang on like he's my life support. Two people – one on each side – push my knees back to my ears, and it occurs to me that this is exactly how I got myself into my current situation. Minus Esme and the spotlight, of course.

"Alright, Bella. Are you ready? When I say so, I'm gonna need you to push as hard and for as long as you can."

I nod quickly, concentrating on my breathing like she taught me to do. In through my nose, out through my mouth. In through my nose, out through my—

"Okay, let's give a big push! Come on, Bella! _Puuussshhhh_!"

Aside from an uncomfortable amount of pressure, nothing hurts like I thought it would. The epidural is a godsend. I get a small sheen of sweat on my forehead, but I attribute this more to the heat waves rolling off the spotlight than the actual work I'm performing. Edward's immediately on it, however, throwing a wet towel on my forehead, trying to be supportive while simultaneously struggling to catch the whole show. Despite my fear, his excitement is contagious, and all I can think about the whole time I'm having our child is how lucky I am.

Esme coaches me through it, telling me to push, then push harder. Edward squeezes my hand, then my foot, and if I wasn't so preoccupied I'd probably laugh. My mom stands respectfully near my head in a quiet observation.

The pressure is tremendous, and all at once it disappears in a quick, sudden relief that leaves me panting. There's a blur of movement as everyone springs into action, and all I can see is a small, goopy bundle in Esme's arms.

No one tells me the sex and I want to ask, but there's so much commotion and noise and I suddenly feel too exhausted to raise my voice so that I can be heard. The baby lets out a choked cry before the umbilical cord is cut and it's whisked away to a table across the room.

A few minutes later, Esme resumes her current position, telling me we're not quite done. She talks quickly, determinedly, coaching me through the expulsion of the placenta, which comes easily after several long minutes but distracts my focus from everything else occurring in the room. There are pads – lots of pads – tucked beneath me by what appears to be a nurse tech. Then the bed is reassembled and my legs are repositioned, and all I want to know is where the hell Edward is and why he left me at such a vulnerable moment. My chest gets tight, and for the first time in my life I experience the crushing, overwhelming sensation that leaves me feeling hopelessly suffocated in everything that's occurring around me.

Then from out of nowhere, his lips are on mine, his thumbs wiping away the sweat on my cheeks as he kisses me briefly and yet with purpose. "It's a boy, Bella," he whispers, and then Esme is at my side, lowering the tiny bundle into my arms.

I've never had a lot of experience with babies, but this one settles perfectly against my chest, it's little body warm and soft and so incredibly fragile. Thin, dark hair is matted against his head, the ends settling an entire inch above eyes that are clenched tightly shut.

The room fills with people for an indefinite amount of time, everyone cooing and ahhing over the boy in my arms. It's loud and crowded and I'm feeling selfish; I just want everyone to go away, to have this perfect moment all to myself. When the nurse begins kicking everyone except Edward out of the room, it's all background noise against the cozy, seamless little existence that surrounds us.

Edward kisses my temple, and when I turn my head he kisses my mouth.

When it's just us and the nurse in the room, the reality of my fortune weighs upon me, its presence a sharp contrast to the anxiety that burdened me only moments earlier. For the first time since my wedding, I weep tears of joy.

-x-x-

"Thank God his hair isn't blonde, right Bella?" Alice whispers loudly, leaning towards my bed so that I can hear her clearly. "Could you imagine if he came out looking like Carlisle?"

Jasper lightly smacks her on the arm for me, aghast at her statement, but I can't help but crack a smile. She's _so_ right.

After the nurse kicked everyone out of the room, she assisted me with my first breastfeeding, which took a few tries. Then she left the three of us alone, and shortly afterwards I was moved to the maternity ward. A crib for the baby was parked in the room with us, which is once again overflowing with family and friends.

Emmett takes the baby, handling him carefully, and the little boy looks tiny and breakable against his looming size.

"I think he looks like an Emmett," he announces judiciously. "Isn't that right, little E? Oh shit—sorry, I mean crap—he opened his eyes! He likes the name!"

My dad, who's probably the only person who hasn't seen his eyes open, nearly crashes over a chair to witness this turn of events.

We still haven't decided on a name. Edward and I debated on a few we liked, but in the end we decided we'd wait until we saw the baby to see if one "fit." Which may be ridiculous, but it felt like the right thing to do.

So far, we've barely had a moment to ourselves to see what we both think.

"He looks terrified," I hear Edward say.

"Nah, dude, he's fucking ecstatic. I mean freaking ecstatic. Sorry."

"You can't say _freaking,_ either," Rosalie says.

"Why not? It's not a cuss word."

"It's inappropriate. I don't want you saying it around our kids."

Two months ago, Rosalie confessed that she wants to start trying for kids right after they get married. They were engaged a year ago, right after Emmett started work as a nurse practitioner at an emergency clinic. Their wedding date is set for November, a little over three months from now.

I recall how years ago, while sitting in Emmett's living room, she told me she never wanted kids. Then again, being with the right person can change things.

A knock on the door turns everyone's heads, and Dr. Ellis – who I began calling by her preferred name _Tori_ over three years ago, surprising the hell out of even myself – enters the room, her eyes immediately zeroing in on the bundle in Emmett's arms.

"Sorry I'm so late," she apologizes, quickly stepping forward to hug me and then Edward. "I had a complicated surgery. Oh my God, is this our little man?" she exclaims, quickly moving towards Emmett's side and gushing at the baby.

Things were awkward between Dr. Ellis and I for a long time. Despite the peaceful lunch we shared, becoming close friends wasn't quite so easy – I still didn't fully trust her, and I think she sensed my unease. She continued to keep her distance from Edward until I finally invited her to a BBQ at Emmett's house. After we all had a few drinks and really had a chance to talk, the tension seemed to ease away, the wall between us slowly but surely chipping down at the edges.

Tori has been dating someone for a year now, although it's still uncertain whether they're very serious. She's vague with the details, and when asked if he's "the one," she coyly replies, "I guess we'll see."

As it turns out, she's had a hard time with things – with life in general. She's not close to her father, the former Senator, despite how Carlisle made things seem, and her mother died when she was fourteen. She's been taking antidepressants on and off since she was twenty-four, and I later found out that the unmarked pills she dropped in the hallway so many years ago were Trazadone.

She's reportedly not taking the pills right now, however, and has been doing well without them.

Over the years, she's maintained her close friendship with Carlisle, and when I finally asked her about it, her answer was surprising: "Good friends are hard to come by," she said with a shrug. "Carlisle can be a little crass, but he looks out for the people he cares about. Believe it or not, he's sometimes hardest on the people he loves the most."

I think about Edward and hope like hell that's true.

"What's his name?" I hear Tori ask Edward.

"Baby likes Emmett," Emmett says promptly, as if this should settle the matter.

"The baby does not like Emmett."

"You could always go the celebrity route, " Jasper jokes. "Coco, Seven, Apple…"

"Apple is a girl's name," Alice interjects.

"Apple is a _fruit's_ name," Emmett argues.

"Touche."

"Well, personally, I like the name Mango."

"Too girly. I like Avocado."

"Butternut."

"Bacon."

"Filet Mignon."

"Baked potato."

"Are we thinking of names or what we want for dinner?" Dad interjects. "'Cause I could go for a Filet."

Pretty soon, the baby starts fussing and the nurse comes by to make everyone leave. It's getting late, so they tell us they'll let us get some rest and come visit again in the morning.

The nurse assists me with another breastfeeding lesson and then quietly leaves the room, allowing me to finish on my own. I watch the baby a moment, touching his silky-soft nose with the tip of my finger, and he looks up at me with sleepy, grayish-green eyes. As soon as Esme saw them, she claimed they would fade to Edward's bright-green eye color in just a few short months.

Edward is sitting on the recliner by the bed, watching us silently. I wave him over and he approaches with caution, sliding in beside me slowly so as not to disturb the baby.

When the baby finishes eating, I hand him over to Edward to burp him, watching in awe as Edward handles him easily and with care. I'm exhausted – I feel like I could sleep for weeks – but my eyes are glued to the scene next to me, unwilling to miss even a single moment.

After he burps, the baby sags, going limp and peaceful in Edward's arms.

"Guess he's full," Edward murmurs quietly. He turns and looks at me. "You tired, Bella? I can go to the chair so you can sleep."

I shake my head, turning on my side and nestling against Edward's chest. He shifts the baby into his right arm and wraps his left around my shoulders, pulling me closer.

My eyes go heavy almost immediately, especially as Edward begins rubbing my forearm with his fingers. Especially as he turns and kisses my forehead, his lips lingering, his nose skimming the base of my hairline while he inhales deeply.

I know the feeling. Clutching them both tightly, not wanting to lose a moment even in sleep, I hold on for as long and as hard as I can.

_This is perfection_, I think as I drift to sleep. And I'd be crazy to let it go.

-x-x-

A/N: Awww... I'm so sad it's over :(

Many many thanks to everyone who read and reviewed and to passionmama and ms-ambrosia for all their help and advice. Writing has been a fun journey - a creative outlet - that I've really enjoyed taking. The learning experience has been invaluable.

As of right now, I'm not planning anymore stories. I'll probably write outtakes when I have more time, and they'll be posted in the outtakes section on my profile when they come.

To everyone who supported my writing and offered words of encouragement... those words meant the world to me. I can't express how grateful I am to all of you.

Until next time... xoxo


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